Does this Unit have a Soul?
by kawakasumi
Summary: Sending terminators into the past is so eighties, how about we send two of them in an alternate-future instead? Well, not intentionally of course.
1. TX-AM-1R4

"Clear!" A shout rang through the desolate corridors, sparks flew as another shell impacted the bunker. The once pearly white and clandestine interiors now dark as the depleting generators struggle to accommodate the facility.

Silence.

Then an explosion blasted the dust from the floor, the lights failing once more. Four dark figures rushed in, boots leaving imprints of mud and dirt, occasionally blood into the tiles. "Move move move!" The lead figure bellowed, followed by a hurrah.

They advanced through the halls, illuminated by lights mounted on their recently procured plasma rifles. These figures had made quick work of the remaining defences, suffering little to no injury to the automated turrets.

These things compared to what they had encountered outside?

Toys.

The four figures became ten when the fighting outside had died down to mere clean-up. And soon, ten had become twenty. And then a whole lot. The fight had been harsh, no harsher than it usually was. Some wounded, most died. But they had come to accept the reality of war. Especially against these things.

Where a simple miscalculation meant your head blown off your shoulders. Machines never made it simple, despite how straight-forward their mindset was.

The ground-troops blasted their way into the inner-sanctum, where Skynet had built it's time displacement machine. The inner guardians were easily dispatched, the humans were all too determined to die now.

The lead trooper pulled down his mask, a young face beneath, scarred yet managing to retain a bit of his innocent youth. "This is it! Bring him in!" He craned his neck over his shoulder.

A glimmer danced between his eyes as he took the full scale of the machine. The lead trooper didn't know how time worked nor cared to find out. How does a machine bent on destroying humans built something that was integral to their own success? He shook his head, all that mattered was getting the man back to the past.

The sound of boots coming closer told him the troopers were returning with the package, three troopers entered the room, followed by a burly naked man. Face set in stone, and with a stare that could literally kill. The Lead trooper took pride in his men, they didn't ask questions in times like these; they get the job done. Connor trusted them that much.

The lead trooper nodded to his right man, who in turn, began to operate the machine. Clicking away at the controls while the rest of the troopers secured the room."Nineteen-ninety four," The operator mumbled to himself as he typed. The man nodded in affirmation, and knelt in the middle of the rings.

Their mission was critical, and if all things went well.

Their unit would win the war singlehandedly.

l-l

BOOT

SYSTEMS CHECK…

HEALTH CHECK :

TEST DISKS: 99.997%

MEMORY ALLOCATED

NEWMEM AVAILABLE

EDL MODULE ONLINE

PROCESSORS:

16 AVAILABLE

MTC POLLYALLOY STABLE

DOWNLOADING DIRECTIVES. . .

 ** _TERMINATE HIGH VALUE TARGETS_**

 ** _HINDER RESISTANCE EFFORTS_**

 ** _TERMINATE ROGUE UNITS_**

It woke.

It's first stimulation was a feeling of raw energy, pulsating within it's core, and from there the power surged like lightning arcs, reaching it's further faculties until the minor systems returned a ping. In a programmed motion, it began to move. It's digits twitched as electrical impulses were fed through the connected nanofibers.

The second was audio. Klaxons slowly blared into life, a silence in between filled with sparks of electricity and an explosion somewhere far in the building it was in. Something else was in the building too. Plasma weapon discharge, judging from data that was available.

It decided to hasten the boot process by a considerable 0.09 seconds, bypassing minor checks.

It's display suddenly lit up, blue panels coming to life in rows before lines of data scrolled pass. A matter of formality if nothing else, it understood everything in it's systems. It did not need a report.

It realized it was hanging from an assembly line, the other units beside inactive. Yet it was activated. It did not waste time pondering the situation, it grabbed the arm holding it in place and forcefully yanked itself off the assembly line.

And landed on the conveyor belt below with a resounding crash. It pushed itself off the ground gracelessly. Another blast echoed from deep within the compound. It's head snapped sharply towards the general direction. The intruders. Ninety-nine percent likely it was the resistance, with the remaining one percent being non-aligned humans. Not that it mattered, in the end they were painted for termination.

The machine designated TX-AM-1R4 stalked towards the exit, processors already calculated the best method of approach.

l-l

"What's taking so long, Corporal?" Sergeant O'Reilly yelled and glanced towards the contraption. The rings were spinning albeit slowly. Not good enough, he thought. At this rate, they might as well roll and wait for the Hunter-Killer drones to carpet bomb them all.

"It's the machine sir! It's giving me a hard time,just give me a couple more minutes." O'Reilly grunted at the reply. He motioned his hand at a few standing troopers, "Keep a tight perimeter, don't want any stragglers coming in." He said, eyeing the naked Mr.World still kneeling patiently.

O'Reilly had a lot of questions. None that could be answered at the moment so he decided to busy himself with overseeing whatever defense they could muster against any surprise attacks.

"I'm giving you five minutes, Corporal." O'Reilly said, aiming down the corridor. It was the only way in--The only way in that they knew for that matter. And it seemed like it was true for the machines as well, as his troops dispatched a few still active terminators trying their damnedest to force their way in.

Fortunately, the ones that survived the onslaught outside were some derelict T-600's. And they melt better than a hot-knife through butter with plasma. Laughter and chuckles were exchanged between the troops, O'Reilly knew better than to count his eggs just yet. The machines never failed to make things interesting.

"We got more incoming, Sergeant!" A trooper reported. Rifles instantly whirred into action, give or take ten plasma weapons solely aimed down the corridor. Any machine daring enough to go into that kill-zone was bound to turn into slag.

"Let them come." O'Reilly gritted his teeth, fingers gripping his rifle tighter. "I want that guy sent today, corporal!"

The first plasma round was sent down the corridor by Private Linsky, meeting its mark in a splash of blue and white, the T-600 model slowed to a stop. Bulky things they were, even an 800 would've been slightly pushed back by the shot. "Light it up!" O'Reilly shouted, the troopers behind makeshift barriers rose, their rifles illuminating the entry-way with bright white and violet flashes.

The machines rarely made sound, and if they did, it was mostly done to bait the humans. In O'Reilly's experience, they made the most satisfying dying noises in his lifetime. A mixture of a groan and horn blasting. Disappointment made into a sound more like. The dead and dying machines know they failed their directives… They failed their master.

In that regard, the cacophony of plasma bolts and robotic death throes were a musical symphony for the sergeant. The stinging smell of ozone and electricity lasted longer than the battle itself. Another one of the Sergeant's own guilty pleasure.

"One's still moving." Private Kohl said, O'Reilly suppressed a sigh. "Then make it unmoving."

"Aye sir." He got up quickly, and fired a shot before returning to cover. The bolt hit's it mark, O'Reilly didn't doubt the capability of his troopers. But the machine still marched on if the stomping metal on metal hadn't made it obvious already.

"Shit, did you get an eye on it? What make was it?" It was Linsky, his heavy plasma rifle close. Probably itching to get a round off at the approaching termie.

"It's dark. Can't see through the fuckin' smoke and heaps of termies we offed." Kohl replied, annoyed. "I think it's a 700 though… Maybe even an 800." He continued, a little more subdued this time.

Fuck. An 800, O'Reilly thought with a grimace. "Shit an 800." Lansky said, perfectly articulating the Sergeant's thoughts. "Troopers, focus fire on my mark." O'Reilly said in a low voice;Nods from all around. He wasn't going to risk the machine taking cover.

"Mark!" In one motion, the assembled resistance force plucked themselves from cover, rifles bearing at the advancing termie like great turrets from battleships of old. Blinding flashes filled the area again, but now directed to a sole target. If it stood a chance against one shot, then O'Reilly dared it to stand after this barrage.

The machine was dead now, it didn't take an engineer to tell O'Reilly that termies with a dozen holes shouldn't be moving again. But somehow it did, it resumed it's approach, a dark figure only illuminated by what's left of the lights in the corridor and burning wreckage. Linsky sent another round down the range, and it smacked into it's torso, a chunk of metal melting off the frame, oozing down onto the tiles.

"The fuck is that thing? Why isn't it stopping? It should be!" Linsky complained. The other troopers were getting jittery as well, and followed Linsky's lead, popping a few rounds into the termie. Yet for all it did, it didn't stop.

Just what the fuck was happening here?

Was it a new model? Did skynet intentionally bait them into this hole just to test it's newest plaything on them? Why didn't John tell him? Why--O'Reilly stopped, and peered into the darkness with narrowed eyes. It's eyes weren't glowing, it's dead. Then why the--

It stopped all too suddenly, a mere few feet from the entrance, a long silence as the resistance fighters debated whether to let off a round again into the thing. "Hell ye--" The yell was interrupted by a loud clang coming from the dead termie.

A splitting screech followed, O'Reilly forced himself not to cringe. The termie's chest opened up, a balled metal fist punching through the half molten chassis. O'Reilly's eyes widened, "Behind it!" He yelled, but in the span of seconds it took him to warn the others, the fist changed, splitting and rearranging itself into some-sort of weapon.

Linsky the quick bastard managed to fire off a shot but it bounced off the 'meat-shield'.

Craaackk, zip. The weapon fired, too quick for the sergeant to see, blasting their cover to hell. O'Reilly was flipped over his own head, landing clean on his back, counting himself lucky he didn't land on his neck. Shrapnel whizzed past his ears. Eardrums ringing from the shock and muffled groans serving only as background noise.

"Eyes on the thing now!" O'Reilly yelled, disoriented. The others were too busy nursing their own heads or dying to focus on the sergeant's words. The machine wasted no time, pulling it's reconfigured arm free from the used T-800 husk.

It ran towards the nearest downed trooper clutching his abdomen as he willed himself up from the ground. He glanced at the thundering Termie, eyes wide. "Sh—" His words muted by a kick to his ribs, puncturing his lungs and sputtering blood before falling onto the ground again. Dead this time.

"It's fast!" O'Reilly heard Private Cole yell, the trooper managed to roll away and made some distance. Rifle nowhere in sight. "Sergeant!" Coal pulled out his secondary and buried his whole mag into the slender termie, but as expected, they bounced off with nary a scratch. O'Reilly got on his feet, pulling a few others up with him what few they were left.

"Cole run! The rest cover fire now!" The battered troopers let loose, plasma bolts and conventional arms flying towards the termie. But it was fast. It kicked the dead corpse up, using him as a meat-shield. The thing had tricks, but it was getting old fast, O'Reilly gritted his teeth. Cole hadn't gotten far either, face down on the tiles, a trail of blood flowing from the back of his head. The slender termie threw the spent gun it borrowed from the dead trooper at them.

"Ow!" Came Linsky's pained groan.

The moment of hesitation was all it needed, the corpse went flying at Linsky, who—too busy nursing his bleeding nose—was unable to evade. He was sent tumbling with the corpse a few feet past the broken troopers. O'Reilly tracked it with his rifle, so did Kohl and two others, but their shots were missing ninety seven percent of the time as the machine's body moved and twisted in ways that no other man nor machine can. But it's trajectory was simple enough.

It was heading straight for them.

O'Reilly swore one of Kohl's shot was straight on it's mark, and it was too late for it do anything except… It simply swatted the bolt away. A damned plasma bolt! Swatted like a nuisance! What the hell were they suppose to do against something like that?! The only sensible thing O'Reilly could think of was to buy time against a nigh-unstoppable machine. Even the 1000's melted when you bury it with plasma.

"Split up! Buy time!" O'Reilly saw glimpses of

emotion on his men's faces. The utter realization of what he meant. Kohl and a trooper began to break off, but the machine was faster, it took only a second for it to close the distance and now it was barreling straight into them, like an assorted bowling pins waiting to be toppled over.

Too late for any of them to fire, unless they wanted to burn themselves along with it, O'Reilly braced for impact.

It slammed into him like a sledgehammer, knocking him away. But it merely thundered past them with the force of an oncoming train. It clambered on the platform, the rings were spinning faster now. Corporal Skinner was shouting, his rifle primed at the advancing termie.

"Corporal! Hold fire! You'll hit the package!" O'Reilly yelled into the radio. The corporal spared him a confused glance, as if expecting him to find an alternative to stopping the machine from ruining the mission. "Hell if I know." He said, coughing blood, his body hurt. Probably a broken rib or two.

The termie snarled, that surprised O'Reilly. It's blue optics glaring at Skinner, as if to order the man to stop the machine. But the corporal was a resistance man through and through, so he gave the thing his middle finger instead.

Not to be denied, O'Reilly watched the thing run at the speeding rings, deftly lunging at the right moment. Just seconds before getting smacked right in half, metal arms outstretched to clobber the Mr.Wonder as soon as it got it's hands on him. The room lit up like a force of a thousand suns, blinding the sergeant. It took a few seconds for him to regain his vision, but he was greeted with an empty machine, rings slowing to a halt. But no termie ripping a man in half in sight.

"The fuck was that thing?" Linsky hobbled towards the sergeant, extending a hand. He accepted it gratefully.

"It's not our problem anymore." Was all O'Reilly could say.

"Sergeant." Skinner waved from the platform.

"Yeah, corporal?"

"I sent him to the wrong time-stamp."

Gritting his teeth, O'Reilly swallowed the urge to yell. "How did you manage to do that Skinner? Your job was simple as it was! Nineteen ninety-four! You said it yourself a few minutes ago!"

The corporal sighed, shoulders sagging. "The systems too fried, Sarge, I did what I could, but with bits of Skynet still kickin' in the system and the whole place coming apart, It's a miracle it even ran, shit, it even said 1994 on the thing right here until it snitched on me." He tapped on the console with an annoyed look.

Brushing a palm over his face, O'Reilly breathed slowly. "Well, When did you send him then?"

"2183 and not just him." Skinner clicked his tongue, "The blue bitch tagged along."

l-l

AN: ;)


	2. 2183

A myriad of colors washed over the white snow, heavy winds howled in tandem with arcs of electricity and plasma. Turbulent winds clashed with the anomaly creating pockets of air as a ball of energy expanded in the clearing, melting away snow. The massive ball of energy imploded, popping away from existence as fast as it appeared.Leaving bald earth, charred and darkened, a perfect shape carved into deep ice.

In the middle of the clearing, a slender figure lay still, blue slits narrowed dangerously, it's body poised like a snake waiting to strike at it's target; a naked man; his face impassive at the face of imminent death. The feminine machine struck like lightning,jabbing at the man's torso, it connected, piercing through the faux-skin.

His face didn't betray any emotion, he retaliated, thrusting his elbow into his assailant's arm. It gave away slightly. It retracted it's arm, noting it's opponent was on equal footing in terms of raw strength, perhaps even more. The machine delivered more jabs, too fast for the man to parry or block.

He may had the advantage of strength, but agility was on it's side.

Lumps of skin was missing from the man, splotches of blood running down from his injuries yet seemingly unharmed by them. The machine already knew he wasn't a human like the rest of them. It had pegged him for a rogue the moment it had set it's eyes on him.

Slivers of polished metal glinted through the openings of his wounds, marred by faux-blood. He reared back, glowing red eyes pierced through the fake eyeballs in place as it stomped through the dirt, rushing at the other machine. It sidestepped gracefully, the crash barely audible over the wind as the man bulldozed into a solid ice, webs of cracks formed at the impact.

The machine followed up, rushing into the rogue, it raised it's reconfiguring arm, prongs elongating from the stump, blue energies had begun to pool at the tips. The machine elbowed into the rogue, locking him into the ice formation. He tried prying the slender machine away, but it slapped it's effort away with it's free hand.

It pushed it's reconfigured arm into the rogue's face, deeming the best way to terminate the rogue without taking itself out in the process was to avoid discharging the plasma weapon at the rogue's power cells.

But the weapon faltered, the energy crackling, disagreeing with it. The malfunction caused a nano-second of pause in it's systems, diagnostics engaged afterwards. The rogue took it's chance, pushed the slender terminator back as he sent his systems into overdrive. Dazed from the aftershock, the terminator bounded off from the rogue's fist and was sent crashing into the ground, rolling a distance away.

The blow had managed to twist it's head in an unnatural angle, which it easily adjusted… Or tried to as it twitched in its efforts to correct it's head. It glanced at it's arm, sparks of electricity bouncing off the malfunctioning appendage. The rogue was advancing towards it now, with an unsteady gait, lumbering to a crawl. Most of it's face had melted from the proximity of the terminator's malfunctioning weapon, it's crimson gaze was petering before finally fading out entirely.

lxl

[WARNING… WARNING..]

[CRITICAL SYSTEMS FAILURE.]

[EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN IMMINENT]

[CPU INTEGRITY FAILING]

[COMMENCING DATABASE TRANSFER….]

STAND-BY…

TX-AM-1R4 calculated it's battle with the rogue-800 unit was a success, despite suffering heavy damages to it's internal components. Damages that could've been avoided if it had not decided to pursue the rogue. It knew for a fact that anything metallic inside a temporal shift would be exposed to dangers.

Time did not agree with it's assessment and neither did Mother..

Thus, jumping after him was the most logical decision it had done within it's short activation period. Regretfully, it would be one of it's last decision before it's CPU melts. It had however, accomplish two of it's tasks, and that sparked a sense of accomplishment within itself. It's chances of seeing a second deployment was higher than most now, Mother would deem AM-1R4 important enough to be restored.

[UNABLE TO ESTABLISH CONTACT…]

If it could tilt it's head, AM-1R4 would've done so in a human fashion. Last time it had checked--when it's sensors were still functional--there were no barriers in the immediate area and none of it's sensors were jammed. It had stumbled into a predicament; if it allowed itself to shutdown now it would risk itself falling into resistance possession. On the other hand, it could stay in a dormant state, pinging out it's location to Motherbase as long as it's plasma reactors were stable.

Both options were unacceptable.

The first being obvious enough. The latter… It's systems were dwindling already, it could not spare the necessary resources to calculate which subsystem were to fail next while it was in hibernation.

There was another option, replace the CPU entirely. So it directed extra power to it's servos, essentially forcing itself to move despite the warnings sent by it's subsystems. The other machine had halted, perfectly still, optics blank; as the human saying went: 'Dead in the water.'

AM-1R4 reached for the back of the 800's cranium, fingers digging into the scalp, tearing it away revealing a titanium alloy finish. Normally, accessing an older unit's CPU port would've been an easy task. Only made difficult by the twitches it's system had adopted. After a few moments, it managed to pull out the 800's CPU.

It took AM-1R4 another few moments to install it into it's own systems. Terminators were never meant to tamper with their own CPU's, or any critical components for that matter. Which left AM-1R4 asking why did Mother allow it to be essentially 'unshackled'. It however, decided it's attempts to understand Mother's decision was a wasted one and continued to install the CPU core with refocused attempt.

AM-1R4 was thankful, in a way, that it's design was far more efficient than the older units. If it had been an older model, it'd have taken a few days for the scar on it's skin to heal. Currently however, it was enjoying unimpeded access to all of it's functions. Though, it would have relished the chance to test it's memetic polyalloy.

It could've tested it on the humans previously, however, chances were they wouldn't have believed it was one of theirs. So a more, direct approach was necessary and it was satisfied that it had worked.

[NEW HARDWARE DETECTED...]

AM-1R4 sifted through the data the rogue unit had procured, some were old-programs from Mother: Thousands of ways to terminate humans, their habits, personality matrices and zettabytes of other relevant data albeit outdated compared to AM-1R4's. Although, what intrigued AM-1R4 was a set of directives, a program connected to the CPU itself; hardwired so tampering was out of the question. Oddly, it was rather small in size.

[WARNING…]

[P/P/RO/TEEC/T_J/J/JOHN_CO/N/OR]

It's optics flared, the name sent alarms within it's systems. A name so prominent, a sentient machine would wonder if Mother was trying to terminate him or procure him.

[W/AA/RN/NING]

Data was downloaded into it's storages unbidden, bypassing all security protocols in place. AM-1R4 itself was shoved into a proverbial back seat as the virus took hold. It gazed internally behind bars as the virus altered the codes within it's systems.

[EN/SU/RE_THE_SUR/VIV/AL...H/UMANITY..]

More codes ripped from the CPU and pasted forcefully into it's systems. It was as if trying to fit a jigsaw piece into a position it was clearly not meant to be. Already, AM-1R4 could feel the vast performance drop, the CPU was destabilizing it's system.

[R/EBOO/T...]

[Y/N?]

AM-1R4 cycled it's functions one more time, pushing its personal files and programs into a secure corner in it's drives. The CPU was trying to take over it's model, which it cannot allow. To be the first TX to fall into resistance hands was not an option. A fresh reboot was necessary.

The machine's optics slowly faded, barely audible whirs dropping in velocity as it powered down it's main reactors, only the critical systems remained online and even then, they were operating at a bare minimum.

Snowfall had begun again, heavier this time around, threatening to bury the machine beneath it's cold embrace. Unbeknownst to the machine, a battle had been waged far above the skies. The victor had long been decided; the loser meanwhile fated to fall into their tomb in Alchera.

lxl

RESTART

[SYSTEMS CHECK…]

[HEALTH CHECK : ]

[TEST DISKS: 84.433%]

[MEMORY ALLOCATED]

[NEWMEM AVAILABLE]

[EDL MODULE ONLINE]

[PROCESSORS]

[16 INSTALLED]

[WARNING: CPU OBSOLETE]

[04 AVAILABLE]

[WARNING: MTC POLYALLOY UNSTABLE]

 **[UPDATING DIRECTIVES. . . ]**

[ENSURE THE SURVIVAL OF SARAH AND JOHN CONNOR]

TERMINATE HVT

[ENSURE THE SURVIVAL OF HUMANITY]

HINDER RESISTANCE EFFORTS

TERMINATE ROGUE UNITS

 **[ERROR: CONFLICTING DIRECTIVES]**

[PURGING…]

[MISSION PARAMETERS UPDATED…]

[ENSURE THE SURVIVAL OF HUMANITY]

HINDER RESISTANCE EFFORTS

TERMINATE ROGUE UNITS

White filled it's vision: snow. AM-1R4 snapped it's head into place, having been left in an odd angle for too long. It felt better in a sense, green all over the board except for a few areas. There was nothing much that it could do to amend that problem as much as it wanted to.

An 800 CPU wouldn't be able to handle the necessary calculations and power needed to both control it's pool of mimetic polyalloy and other complex functions at the same time. In an event that it had to engage with enemy forces, it would have to drop whatever disguise it was wearing.

There were other drawbacks as well to using the 800 CPU, but some were quite easily compensated. There were gaps in it's memory banks as well, which was a cause for concern and so it had begun trying to recover loss data; so far it had been unsuccessful.

A metallic hand emerged from the snow, clawing at the mounds as it pulled forth. A slim figure emerged, CPU clicking in the background as it took in the amount of scenery it's optics offered. Countless stars shimmered against the night sky, green auroras painted across the dark inky canvas, snowfall was ever present and the winds had slowed to a whisper.

That struck AM-1R4 as odd, it should've been daylight out since it's eight hour downtime. Unless, it was in Alaska. That theory didn't hold weight when it accounted for the constellations in the sky, or more correctly, the lack of them. It couldn't identify any of the known constellations.

Farther away, it spotted wisps of smoke coming over the horizon. Intrigued, it zoomed in and could make out shapes of a wreckage. It decided then, that it would investigate. Survivors would need help--if there were any.

l x l

AM-1R4 had come to the conclusion that it was not in 2027. Too many clues point to it being displaced. The future most likely, but resistance rarely sent terminators in the future and neither did Skynet. It couldn't compute the strategic importance. It's mission was also too vague, too encompassing and vast.

[ENSURE THE SURVIVAL OF HUMANITY]

It entertained the possibility that the humans made use of left-over nuclear devices from the bygone era to essentially destroy all of Skynet and themselves too in the process. Plausible, given human brashness.

Is that the basis of it's purpose now?

To become a human shepherd?

If that was it's mission, then it had probably failed even before it began. AM-1R4 had long knew the air tasted of ammonia and methane. It was logical to say those two elements did not allow a conducive environment for human living conditions. That was not to include the fifteen percent decrease in gravitational pull. It was missing a crucial factor in it's calculations. Unless the resistance and Skynet managed to blow a chunk of the earth off in their battle.

It had been traversing for a near hour now, the wreckage wasn't very far, trekking towards it however was made treacherous by the jagged and icy landscape. Nothing it couldn't handle though with the glitches in it's systems it did not dare challenge the chances of it slipping and falling into a ravine.

AM-1R4 was further mystified when it arrived at the location, what it thought to be a wreckage of some-sort of plane turned out to be true. Yet it had never seen anything like it before, Skynet didn't build ships like the one it was seeing; sleek and curved adorned with white outer panels. Skynet built hunter-killers, windowless with barely a compartment for live humans.

Yet this ship--what was left of it--had an enormous living space, unfortunately it had been broken in two. The rear half was some distance away. Then it's theory was proven, it had been sent into the future. How far? It had no clue yet. But the future it was certain, no humans would be able to build this in 2027.

A model reconstruction of the ship told it was about three hundred meters. A lengthy size, not plausible for extended usage in atmosphere unless the Resistance somehow managed to part Skynet of it's plasma reactor knowhow. Even then, they'd require the necessary industrial power to even build a ship of this size.

Just how far forward in time had the Resistance sent it?

A tour inside the broken ship had brought some measure of revelation to the terminator. The ship was definitely crewed by humans, evident by the numerous dead bodies inside. A distant possibility it had entertained was Skynet had perfected it's infiltration unit, but it seemed these were normal humans to a point; Although, there were a multiple types of unidentified contagion in their blood upon investigation.

That warranted future study.

AM-1R4 followed the still lighted pathway to what it surmised was the cockpit, multiple control panels flanked both sides, a few of them were occupied by corpses, burnt or mangled beyond recognition. It had tried interfacing with one of the computers to no avail, power was insufficient.

The cockpit was everything it had anticipated from a human design; it had a three seat layout, each having it's own heads up display, it assumed what the broken shards of glasses were. It approached the main seat, ducking beneath the display and yanking a panel out forcefully.

The technology that the Resistance currently operated on weren't much different from what it was used to apparently, perhaps even more primitive if that were possible. It had taken it less than a minute to figure out how to interface with the control panels. It had taken lesser time to download all the data it could before the residual power finally gave out in the section of the cockpit.

A total of a few terabytes.

AM-1R4 took a seat in the ruined pilot's chair as it parsed through the data. It waited for the information to be in perfect sync, taking about five minutes of it's time. But time was a concept it was familiar with, it had time. Time was something it had in droves. But what time had for it would send it's systems in overdrive. And it all started with a simple log..

11th December 2183.

lxl

AN: if youre reading on webversion the paragraphs might be off. Im using my phone to edit this in.

Also, my chapters are short. I know. But im trying to be consistent and post every week.


	3. Jane Connor?

Alchera was a perhaps the definition of freezing hell-hole, thought Minerva. Anyone that thought otherwise was either mad or human. The turian lieutenant steered away from a burning pile of wreckage, the warmth radiating through her armor. Spirits, the humans either colonized everything in their sight or crashed into it as a last resort. In this case, it was the latter.

One might ask just what in spirit's name were two squads of Blue Suns mercenaries were up to on the freezing ball of dirt; they would get their answer in the form of a hole between the eyes. It was that important apparently, Vido himself had tasked Minerva for the op. Considering it was a rarity for the human to even show his face this far in the verge, Minerva was stuck between feeling honored or annoyed.

Maybe a bit of both.

"Okrolo, any life signs?" Minerva glanced over her shoulder, an armored form of a batarian in blue shook his head.

"None, I don't even know why you bother, Minerva." The old batarian grumbled, followed by chuckles from the other men. The former batarian hegemony marine was known for his less than sunny disposition, often times dispensing his pessimistic wisdom before a huge firefight broke out. Minerva wasn't superstitious by any means, but when you're cursing your mattock and damning it to jam again some entity out there is bound to listen and grant that wish just to screw you over.

"You'd never know, Sergeant." Minerva replied half-heartedly, the scene was as disastrous as they had thought. But seeing it as a hologram and comparing it to real thing was night and day. The Normandy, broken in half like a toy, it was somewhat disheartening for Minerva to see the Alliance ship in it's state. She didn't hold much love for the alliance, but taking out a geth dreadnought and almost single handedly save the whole citadel was good in her book.

"Alright, we're at ground zero, fan out and find Shepard." Minerva signaled, boots crunched in the snow, parting in multiple directions. Minerva had chose to investigate the wreckage, there was higher chance of finding Shepard's body strapped in the pilot seat than dead face down in snow. The human wouldn't have wanted to die like some grunt in a turf war.

Her mandibles clicked in brief annoyance, reminded of days long past. _Humans and their susceptibility to ramming into things._ Like krogan they were in mindset, yet their bodies were more fragile than a turian and only beating batarians and quarians by a few margins. Everything trumped quarians in the physiology department. Meanwhile, batarians had an extra pair of eyes to protect, less armor for their faceplate to compensate for them.

Minerva silently prayed to the spirits as he passed by dead bodies - or what she assumed were - because all that was left were charred husks, though a few were relatively _intact_ , still harnessed in their seats, frost had already coated them. If the atmospheric reentry and the lack of oxygen hadn't killed them, the temperature would've done it. Minerva didn't share Okrolo's line of thinking, she'd happily shake hands with survivors if they were any but Vido's express orders were to either capture them or dispose of them if they proved to be non-cooperative. It was better to be dead right now; that or be Shepard.

* * *

Apparently being Shepard wasn't a good option either, after scrounging and mucking around the crash site; Minerva's men had found Shepard. Armor nearly fused to her body and face totally unrecognizable a.k.a FUBAR. The bloodwork returned a positive so it was a good day for the squad. Naevius and Ingram had the honors of figuring out how to carefully place Shepard's remains into the cryo-container per Minerva's orders.

Naevius was a good mercenary, but a bad Turian. In a sense, he operated out of the box; And in a turian military hierarchy, they couldn't afford a wildcard like that romping around the intricate system. Though when it came to things that never was once mentioned in the ol' guide book, he was the go-to-Turian. That and Minerva can't be arsed to roll around in the snow getting her claws dirty.

Ingram meanwhile was your textbook human specimen: Impulsive, brash, annoying and has a knack of surviving the impossible. So assigning her to such a delicate duty had two perks; One, she'd shut up. Two, she'd probably think up of a way to quickly get the job done. Minerva wasn't worried she'd somehow fuck it up. Because the woman could only fuck up only when she wants something fucked up.

"I don't envy you two for playing the undertakers for today." Okrolo's voice came on the radio.

"How's the perimeter?" Minerva ignored the sergeant's banter in lieu of news from the outskirts of the wreckage. Okrolo had taken a few men with him to set up a perimeter in case _vultures_ came sweeping in. You'd never knew with these kinds of ops, especially when it was handed down from the top brass themselves. It had tendency to attract flies.

"Fucking cold." Minerva suppressed a sigh. "Socks wet. Frost isn't clearing from my helmet. Other than that, I think I could make a sculpture just by pissing straight."

"Copy that." Minerva replied curtly. So there weren't any buzzards just yet. With the BSV Vulcan providing aerial superiority, it'd be a surprise if anyone dared show their mugs here. Deep inside though, Minerva wished the Blood Pack grew a brain or two and _tried_ to swipe this op from them. Emphasis on try. But those degenerates probably never had gotten a whiff of this contract, can't rely on brutes for this job anyway. Minerva absently stared at the cryo-container, Ingram and Naevius had almost finished transferring Shepard.

Easiest hundred thousand she had ever made.

* * *

"We're done, Minny." Ingram's voice chimed through the comms.

"Good, let's get her back to the Kodiak." Minerva ignored the nickname Ingram had taped to her, after reprimanding Ingram multiple times it never got through her head to respect seniority. She was also too valuable to just kick from the team. Maybe that's why each one of the men below her had a quirk of their own; thinking they're too valuable for the team. Well they're not wrong. But spirits would it hurt them to show some decorum from time to time.

Ingram and Naevius started moving back towards the Kodiaks, escorted by two others. Okrolo hadn't reported back yet, still on his final rounds. That was fine with Minerva, the batarian was nothing if not thorough. She glanced over her shoulder again, the smoke was thinning, flames had long died. Shame they couldn't do anything for the dead bodies. That was for the Alliance to sort out. The others agreed to that at least. Minerva shook her head from the thought. The men could learn a thing or two about honor and respect.

"Okrolo, don't leave anything behind for the alliance to find out." Minerva ordered, Okrolo grunted in reply. _Honor, respect and eloquence_. "And don't swipe anything off. Alliance would know if there's anything missing from the inventory." She reminded. No reply. Leave it to the Batarian to be greedy.

Seriously, with a hundred thousand creds Okrolo could afford a whole catalogue of whatever weird shit he was into yet he's deign himself to looting dead men's treasures. No wonder mercs weren't so looked up upon these days. Except for the asari, they do love their Eclipse.

"This was too easy." Ingram said, parking the cryo-container in it's harness.

"Might not want to jinx us, Ingram." Naevius added, already seated in the kodiak. The two privates with them had manned the gun on the side. Minerva meanwhile listened to their chatter from the side, though her attention was mostly into his omni-tool. Everything checked out so far, BSV Vulcan was reporting a clear sky. Minerva felt her gut wrench, _too easy._ The sentence hung in the air.

"I'm just saying, I signed up for this gig for the exhilarating adventures and explosions, Nae. The creds are a bonus." Ingram replied.

Naevius coughed, "There's a chance of dying too."

"That's what I'm talking about here! If I'm dying it better be in a flash of explosions or under a hail of gunfire, not slipping on fuckin' ice and breaking my neck." Ingram sounded miffed, in earnest or just being _Ingram_ , Minerva didn't know nor did she care. It was all about Okrolo now, and he was taking his sweet time.

"Wow." Ingram suddenly muttered.

Minerva raised a curious brow, "What's the matter, Corporal?"

"Old Okrolo better be hauling gold bars back, there's literally no excuse for taking this much time to loot some alliance gear." She added, propping her chin on her palm.

"That's what I've been thinking." Minerva admitted as she stared over the horizon, not much of it was visible anyways, the snow was kicking into gear again.

"Probably driving a mako back or something." Naevius offered. "He'd be disappointed that we couldn't carry a mako on a kodiak."

"They have a mako?" Minerva knew that voice. It was Ingram's ' _can we keep it, Oddy'_ , voice.

"No." Minerva affirmed.

"No to what? There being no Mako?"

"I saw a Mako half buried in ice." Naevius wasn't helping the case at all.

"Lieutenant." Okrolo's voice came on the comms. Good timing. Though the instances Okrolo referred to Minerva as Lieutenant were either if he's in deep pyjak shit or something serious came up. The lieutenant just hoped it wasn't the former. They absolutely cannot afford any setbacks.

"Sergeant Okrolo, report."

"Minerva, we-Yeah, tell her to sit down-We found a survivor. Says she's from medical. What do you want us to do with her?" A survivor? Now that was a surprise, even for the decorated Lieutenant. This was taking human survivability to a whole next level.

"Wait there." Minerva cut the comms, glancing towards Naevius and Ingram, beckoning them over. "You two, on me."

Trekking back to the wreckage wasn't particularly easy but neither was it difficult, just _annoying._ "Minny,, this scenario seems shady." Ingram voiced her concern, it was a matter of time anyway, she had been quiet for a straight minute.

"I have to agree with her, Minerva. How the hell did she survive reentry? We saw the Normandy, it broke in half!" Naevius added, flanking his right, rifle already unfolded.

"Might be a stray pod the alliance forgot to pick up, crashed here." Minerva explained, when she'd put it into words they sounded better. "Probably scavenged food and oxygen from Normandy."

Minerva prided herself for having a level head when situations like these arose. It made her an exemplary Turian. Naevius could learn a thing or two. The whole lot of them could for that matter. "You remember the briefing." Minerva began, "If she gets too rowdy, knock her down."

"I thought we were supposed to… Y'know, knock em all the way down." Minerva could practically feel Ingram's raised brow. "Like six inches down in the dirt."

"I'd rather not, these are the same people that saved the Citadel, Ingram." Minerva reminded her. Spirits, these humans and their individualism. Thankfully, Naevius hadn't said anything on the matter.

"What are you going to tell Vido?" Was Ingram's next question.

"Let's just hope she doesn't have a problem with mercs." Minerva doubted anyone would care who was rescue if you'd been stranded with limited supplies and no one to talk to. Blue Suns were probably the best merc band to come across if one were to suddenly found themselves stranded. Of course, they'd probably charge the hell out of whomever they rescued, but it beats Blood Pack anyday.

And thats the end of that line of thought.

"Minerva, there's the survivor." Okrolo greeted them, wasting no time on pleasantries as he nodded to the direction of the sole survivor being scanned by Okrolo's men. The human woman had blonde locks running down both sides of her square face, accuented by a sharp chin; a breathing mask covering most of her face. She was staring straight at Minerva and her entourage.

Beautiful by human standards, Minerva thought. "Is she okay?" The Lieutenant asked, her eyes constantly darting back to the human, only finding her still staring.

"Somehow, yes." Okrolo replied, barely hiding the glint of amazement. "No injuries at all, as far as I can tell, you humans are squishy." He glanced at Ingram, who puffed in annoyance.

"Wanna have a go, old man?" Okrolo shrugged, "Not today, little Ingram."

 _Curious,_ she thought. "No injuries at all?" Minerva repeated.

"None." Okrolo replied quickly, "Come here and see for yourselves." He said, taking off into the direction of the set of staring eyes. As they approached, crystal blue eyes tracked them every step of the way. Blinking only when Minerva stopped.

"I'm Lieutenant Minerva, these are my men, you've met Sergeant Okrolo, I hope he wasn't too rough on you." She kept a low and slow voice; Okrolo grumbled. True to the sergeant's words, the woman was unharmed, looking probably more nourished than Ingram despite the harsh weather and lack of supplies. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

For a moment, Minerva had filed the human away as deaf, perhaps from the impact or a pre-existing condition. But the woman tilted her head slightly, facial features unreadable, "I don't understand you."

Minerva quirked her brow, "Okrolo, you didn't take her omni-tool did you?" The sergeant snorted, disgustingly, she might add.

"I have standards, Minerva." He retorted, casting a glance at the Lieutenant. "She probably lost it or something."

"You can't _lose_ an omni-tool just like that, Ol' man." Ingram interjected, "You'd need to _lose_ your arm first, last I checked she still has both hands." She said, waving her hands.

Ingram was right, an omni-tool was installed directly into the user, so unless the woman lost her body-parts or had intentionally carved the unit out of her, it was impossible for her to have misplaced an omni-tool. Or she never had one in the first place. Now that was a thought. Why wouldn't an alliance officer not have an omni-tool?

"Now step aside, fools." Ingram stepped forward, bristling past Minerva and Naevius, "Let the squishy human do the talking." She puffed as she knelt in front of the woman. "I'm Ingram, probably the only one you should know, the others are just here to stand around and look cool." She snickered, but the woman just stared blankly, "Eh, we're from the Blue Suns, if you can't tell that already. We came as fast as we could."

"Blue Suns?" She said innocently, her voice smooth as silk, refined like those Palaven royalties. _._

They all exchanged bewildered looks, "You… Don't know Blue Suns?" The words slipped slowly from Ingram. Just what kind of rock did this woman live under? No Omni-tool and doesn't know Blue Suns? Where the hell did the Alliance plucked this cave-woman from.

"No… I must've… Hit my head somewhere. Can't remember a thing." The woman said, and Minerva would've believed her, but something was definitely off about her, in a way that the lieutenant couldn't just place. Probably how she rarely blinked for the past few minutes Minerva had her eyes on the human, or how the complete lack of emotion the human was displaying.

"What about your name? Do you remember that at least?"

"It's Amira, Jager. I was stationed on the Normandy before it crashed."

She'd heard Okrolo hum, "Ingram, ask her if she could walk. The snow isn't making the trip back to the kodiaks easier." Minerva told her, the snow was beginning to pick up again, she didn't want to risk being grounded in hostile weather.

"Can you walk?" Ingram asked, "Our transport is a lil' bit that way," She jabbed a finger to the general direction that they came from. "If not, Naevius here would love to carry you." The turian scoffed.

"I can."

One of Okrolo's men, Bralo, if memory served Minerva right, pulled Okrolo to the side. Minerva didn't bother asking, probably some stupid scheme to haul as much loot into the kodiak.

"Great!" Ingram slapped her hands together."Let's get a move on then, the alliance would be happy to hear you're okay."

"Hmmh." Minerva rolled her eyes, "And you're doing this out of the pure intention of your soul." She remarked as she pivoted on her heel, boots crunching into the snow.

"That'd be the day." Naevius coughed into his fist, chuckling as Ingram threw a mock punch into his shoulder.

"Oh!" Ingram gasped, palm on her chest in faux pain. "I am capable of charity work. As long as it pays."

Okrolo came jogging to her side, mattock drawn, Minerva quirked her brow, "What's the matter, Okrolo?"

"The human.. the _doctor_." Okrolo emphasized with a hiss, his breathing ragged. Old age definitely didn't do the batarian any favours. "Her story doesn't add up; it was bugging me."

Minerva kept a slow pace, glancing over her shoulder; all were accounted for. The doctor following loosely behind, a strong gait for someone who had been essentially ship-wrecked. "Yes, I've noticed that too. What do you make of it, sergeant?" Minerva was cautious, keeping her voice low, and signaling to Naevius and Ingram to keep a tight lid. To their credit, they nodded and kept on bantering regarding the inhospitable weather.

"We found her at the other half of the Normandy, ducking near a bunch of consoles doing pillar knows what." Okrolo continued, "The first red flag was when she spotted us; one second she was breathing in methane and whatever shit's floating here, and the next is like she remembers she can't breathe and instantly falls on the ground clutching her neck and wheezing."

"You didn't tell me this why?" Minerva was annoyed, Okrolo did love to leave these little details.

"Because she was okay in the end, didn't matter then." Okrolo glanced behind, "Look, it matters now." He brought up his omni-tool, displaying errors all over the screen. "Results of the _doctor's_ scans. She's locked up tighter than Karshan's heaven caste vault. I'd bet with that amount of personal shielding, she could practically survive direct exposure to nuclear radiation. That'd also explain why we weren't able to pick up her lifesigns from earlier."

Now if that wasn't an exaggeration, then Minerva didn't know what is. The turian nodded, eyes darting towards the doctor for a brief second, she was still unawares of what's transpiring. Good. "She might be a spook then?"

"Probably." Okrolo replied, calmer now that the cat was out of the bag. "Your guess is as good as mine, I don't know what the Alliance is doing sending as spook out here."

That was an easy answer for Minerva. "Us for starters. Not us specifically, but looters. We're committing sacrilege basically." Minerva casted a glance at Okrolo, "If I know Alliance, they're already have plans to erect a monument in Shepard's honor."

"Shit, could've done better and send the whole fifth fleet first."

"Bureaucracy at it's finest, Okrolo." Minerva remakarked, "Can't send a whole fleet for a council spectre. Sending in a spook meanwhile." She left the sentence hanging. Okrolo nodded in understanding.

"Now!" Immediately, all six of the Blue Sun operatives spun around, weapons unfolding and raised at the sole doctor. To her credit, her face didn't betray any emotion at the sudden turn of events. "Ingram translate;" Ingram nodded curtly, finger on the trigger, "We're taking Shepard with us, _Doctor_. Now, we can play it nice and cool or we put you down here right here."

Ingram immediately relayed her demands, the doctor showed no signs of responding. After a solid minute, she spoke "Shepard." She began, " Commander Jane Shepard, first human council spectre, Alliance N7 veteran." The doctor paused a second, "The _butcher_ of Torfan?" Minerva flexed her mandibles, Okrolo and the two batarians shifted.

"Well unless the galaxy spat out another redhead N7, I guess we're " Ingram parroted the turian's words, what is the alliance spook gaining from playing stupid, Minerva wasn't sure. To buy time? A long shot since they had the entire sector covered.

"She's dead." The Doctor stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, that doesn't matter. We're taking her with us nonetheless."

For the first time ever, the doctor's eyes narrowed dangerously, blue eyes glinting under the low Alchera sun. "I cannot allow that." There was something ominous about how the whole thing played out, and it definitely had something to do with the doctor; just the way she was reacting, like it had been rehearsed a thousand times over but no matter how much you practiced, there would always be a way to tell it was all an act.

But there were no tells with the doctor, which made Minerva's head hurt.

"Tough shit, _doc_." Ingram said before Minerva could say anything. "We're the ones holding the guns here, last time I checked."

The doctor tilted her head slowly, "We're the ones holding the guns here…" She repeated. Unless the doctor was playing at something, Minerva didn't really see how the doctor would be at an advantage.

"I dont wanna deck a fellow human if I can help it doc." Ingram remarked.

The doctor shifted, their rifles quickly followed her movements. She raised her arm suddenly; Minerva's eyes widened, the doctor's skin peeled away, flesh melting away in a silver stream of liquid crawling up her arm. "Fire!" Minerva yelled, mattocks and M8's replied in kind. The slugs hit their mark, shields didn't flare to life, Dr. _Amira_ was as good as dead. Yet, when the barrage ended, the woman stood tall, her face and body riddled with miniature holes, closing upon itself.

Her raised arm was nothing but sheening silver metal, visible blue lines ending on each tip of her digits. Her arm splitted into thin pieces, rearranging themselves, blue energies swirling at the end of a prong. Minerva didn't need an invitation to duck, "Get down!" Minerva threw herself on the snow, Ingram and Naevius went to the side.

Heat seared through her armor, the cold never had a chance, the projectile from the doctor's weapon passed behind her, impacting something-A scream, squishing and a loud wet explosion. Crimson showered the area, pieces of charred flesh hitting Minerva's backside. "Sitrep!" Minerva yelled.

"It was Bralo!" Okrolo quickly responded, rifles resumed fire. "She got Bralo" The batarian repeated, seething.

Their target was an odd looking humanoid machine, the _doctor_ facade finally unveiled, their bullets pinged against it's armor, deflected with no signs of penetrating. It's eyes were a bright blue, hissing as it faced the brunt of the Blue Suns firepower. "Naevius! Cover fire! We're retreating!" Minerva yelled over the sound of a concussive shot hitting the doctor.

"Copy that, Lieutenant." Naevius' voice crackled on comms, the turian's revenant already spitting out more slugs than all of them combined.

"Ingram, you first! Retreat back to the kodiaks!"

Ingram kept her finger on the trigger as she got up, firing periodically behind as she turn tailed and ran. Minerva swapped in another mag with practised eased, but the spook didn't make it any easier as it moved towards them, it's spindly legs made traversing the thick snow easy, another concussive shot whizzed towards the spook, before it tried to swat it away, only for it to blow in it's hand, pushing it back a few inches.

It snarled, raising it's arm again to fire, Minerva rolled farther away to hopefully avoid the blasting heat. Before it could fire, another one of Okrolo's men, a rookie came bounding through the snow; the remaining Blue Suns held fire as the batarian tackled the mech by it's mid-section. "Run!" His voice strained.

"Naevius, Okrolo, get a move!" Minerva pushed herself up, already turning to run. She caught up with Naevius and Okrolo a second later, casting a final glance at the rookie exploding in into chunks; a lone figure still standing, seemingly unaffected by the blast.

Blue eyes turned to her. _Shit_.

"It's not dead!" Minerva remarked, overtaking Okrolo and stopping momentarily to fire off a concussive. It hit true to its mark, though little good it did. The robot's movements were slow now for some reason so that was definitely an advantage. It took them almost two minutes to sprint all the way back to the Kodiaks, all the time, Okrolo was cursing up a storm.

Ingram was the first to greet them by the Kodiak door, hand extended, Minerva caught it and pulled herself on. "What the hell happened? Where's the two guys?" Ingram asked, Okrolo just shook his head as he clambered on.

"Shoot anything that comes!" The rookies at the gun emplacement nodded. "Pilot take us up!" Minerva ordered into her comms.

"What about the other Kodiak?" Ingram asked over the howling wind.

"Forget about it, we don't have anyone that could pilot that thing in this weather now with those two gone." Minerva said, sighing when he saw Okrolo slumped in his seat. "I'm sorry, Okrolo." Her voice barely a whisper as she took her own seat beside the batarian.

The Kodiak's engine blasted to life, Minerva felt the weight settling in as it took flight. "You definitely jinxed us, Ingram." Naevius said offhandedly as he examined his cooling mattock.

"You got me, I'm a believer now" Ingram admitted humorlessly as she stared down through the closing doors, the rookies were pulling the guns in, just a few moments before an azure bolt streaked past the kodiak. "Holy shit that thing is still gunning after us!"

"Hold on to your seat, ladies." The pilot warned, narrowly avoiding another bolt. Naevius and Ingram held onto Shepard's cryo-container. Minerva felt her stomach churn as the pilot did maneuvers that were clearly unintended for the flying brick that was the kodiak. The Kodiak stalled before slowly easing into cruising speed. "We're in the clear." The pilot announced.

"What was it, Lieutenant?" Naevius was the first to start, leaning forward. Minerva looked around, Ingram was curious too despite her trying to look uninterested, Okrolo's brows were practically knitted together in frustration and the two other rookies were just in the dark.

Minerva shrugged, "I don't know either, but I know we're getting paid right."

Ingram exhaled, "Shit, Lieutenant, you've never seen that kind of thing before? Ever?"

"No." She admitted, "But I have heard of things like those." Minerva laced her talons together, yes, she remembered it now. "Humanoid infiltration mechs. Top secret."

"Alliance? Hierarchy? STGs? Cabals? The Council?" Naevius listed, his red face marks glowed lightly under the dim lighting.

"Judging by the reaction she had when we tried to take away Shepard, it's plausible to say it was Alliance." Minerva said.

Ingram tutted, finger wagging at her direction, but she was visibly shaking. "You almost forgot one: Cerberus."

"What would a human-centric group of fanatics want with Shepard?" Naevius asked. Ingram just shrugged her shoulders.

"Beats me."

"That's helpful." Naevius remarked, sighing as he slumped into his seat. "Never seen a weapon like the thing used before."

"Yeah, holy shit…." Ingram took off her helmet, and placed it on the seat. "My fucking back was on fire...I-I almost thought I'd die." She breathed, brushing her face with both of her palms.

"You'd get your wish though." Naevius interjected, Ingram stared at him hard, "Dying, I mean. In a flame of glory."

"Have you seen what that thing did to the...the other guy?!" Ingram swiped her brow, sweat rolled of her face. "I had to run through whatever was left of him." She exhaled, staring at her shaking fingers. "I almost died!" She laughed.

Minerva caught Naevius glancing towards Okrolo, she just shook her head. "Bralo was his nephew."

Naevius clicked his mandibles, no one held such a high regard for Okrolo, but the old man had his quirks that made him likeable. To see him brought that low just didn't sit right with Minerva. She couldn't wait to call this mission a success. _With casualties_ , she winced. Vido can push the next big contract to the next guy; because Minerva was done with this gig for a while. She looked out the window, Alchera nothing more than a big ball of fuzz in the distance. A visit to the Metellus' family estate was long due.

* * *

AM-1R4 had spent the last two cycles ingesting information on the current timeline, some of it AM-1R4 was familiar with up to a certain point until it happened upon a major divergence in the timeline. It had repeatedly come upon the same conclusion after multiple attempts to amend the fact until it had come to accept it.

Judgement day did not happen.

AM-1R4 tried to compute the implications of such a drastic change, it had at one point, held up it's hand curious whether it would disappear into nothingness. But after the ten minute mark it decided time did not work the way it had been suggested. A parallel reality was more plausible.

The Normandy's console did not offer much in terms of historical data, which was unfortunate, AM-1R4 would've sifted through all of it just to find that _inkling_ proof that Skynet had once existed in this timeline. Perhaps that was why the Resistance sent it this far : to find out how humanity managed to prevent judgement day from happening.

Entirely possible. However, it's mission directives were to _ensure_ the survival of humanity. From what threat, it did not know then.

It did know now, AM-1R4 lifted it's chin, it's optics locked onto the disappearing aerial transport. _Blue Suns_. It hadn't prepared itself when they came, it had chastised itself appropriately then for it's sub-par performance. It should've acquired a helmet of some sort to hide the fact that it didn't need to breathe, provided it could find the armory. Then, the batarian wouldn't have seen it's horrendous acting.

 _Extra-terrestrials._

That was another matter entirely, Skynet had at one point continued human research regarding other life-forms. Unfortunate it did not go very far since the human extermination was a better investment. Now though, it seemed as if the whole universe was alive, around every corner was a different extra-terrestrial waiting to be terminated.

Batarians underwent termination quite nicely, if it's internal checklist was to be believed. AM-1R4 knelt, it's hands sifting through the pieces of the deceased alien. They exploded like meat sacks, it was quite appeasing. It reminded AM-1R4 of an implanted memory of another TX model engaged pigs as target practice. The wet squelch and the visceral rain that followed was nostalgic for a memory not of it's own.

There was nothing useful from the one batarian that decided to wrestle a TX to submission, close proximity x-ray bursts never left much to investigate afterwards. The second one however, while still maintaining the same fashion of death, was fairly intact- _mostly._ It picked up a decapitated arm, changing it's hand into a buzzsaw, it cut through the armor piece until it came off in half.

It plunged it's digits into the flesh, warmer than a regular human. It tore through the ligaments until it found what it was looking for, a thin rectangular device connected to bloodied filaments. Labeled on the microcomputer chip was "Apex Omnitools", curious devices that allowed real-time translation between users. AM-1R4 inspected it for a few more seconds until it was certain that the device was safe to use. Installing it was easier than it had anticipated, though awkward. It did not stick on the surface of it's exoskeleton, and it couldn't afford to install it within it's forearm; so it decided to use a miniscule amount of polymimetic alloy to act as _glue_ and just programmed it to pull onto the chip.

AM-1R4 interfaced with the device, instantly tearing through it's flimsy cyber-security like wheat to a scythe. A part of it was disappointed with the lack of challenge, another part of it had expected the outcome; Skynet was a hundred years ahead of the challenge it didn't falter to some alien tech. The omnitool belonging to Corporal Bralo of the Blue Suns mercenary corps didn't yield much information about their current mission. Only that they were ordered to recover the remains of Commander Shepard.

It had pondered on that mission directive for a split second, wondering if it should allow them to transport the commander's remains and went along with them. But it was reminded of what Skynet was capable of, and why would the human alliance even send a _mercenary_ company attended by aliens to retrieve a lauded hero of their kind? That bore some questioning. Though it had never got far into that line of thought as they opened fire on it, luckily enough, the projectiles were either deflected or absorbed by the polymimetic alloy. Still, it was a safe practice to avoid such impacts, it would be cautious in the future.

It's optics narrowed, Jane Shepard was a John Connor of this time, it thought. If it were human, it supposed it could find some superstitious reasoning behind it all. Humans like Jane Shepard and John Connor were bound to exist, hand picked by some unseen force to enact vengeance upon mankind's enemies. AM-1R4 shifted it's processes back to the matter at hand and stood straight. It stared into the sky, the Blue Suns long gone, it was about to resign itself to wait until it came upon another opportunistic group before it spotted an abandoned aerial transport bearing the Blue Suns logo.

It approached the Kodiak with one mission in mind:

 _Save Jane Shepard._

* * *

A/N: Sorry, took awhile, hey it's twice the usual length with twice the errors! I need me a beta one of these days.


	4. Hunter Hunted

The control scheme for the aircraft was rather straightforward. It didn't know why it even bothered preparing multiple hacking suites, it should've been predictable considering AM-1R4 had easily tore through the omnitool's security.

Nevertheless, hubris was a human's weakness, not a machine's. To practice caution was a practice into perfection.

It sat in the leather pilot seat, it's cyber suites told it if it were human, it would learn to appreciate the leather, a sought out arrangement in a human vehicle. It affirmed internally as it plunged a singular digit into the aircraft's cpu port.

Any semblance of resistance from the aircraft computers swiftly destroyed in less than a second.

The vehicle was now it's to control. The terminatrix dismounted from the seat, and took to the open air again, it needed weapons, much as it preferred it's internal weaponry; it wouldn't be able to choose its battles, opportunistic organics would see it as prey when it assumed it's female skin, when the truth is far from that.

It gathered all the weapons it could from the batarian corpses. They were rather interesting, foldable and with a considerable decrease in muzzle size, the databanks it procured from the normandy and Bralo's omnitool told it much it needed to know. These weapons operated on a different principle, shaving a block of metal with every squeeze, sending a miniscule fragment down range with the aid of zero matter technology.

Processor boggling.

How the organics had come to find such a resource was a mystery, how it even exists in the first place was a bigger question. Not that it bothered to dedicate processing powers to calculate; all it mattered was the termination success rate. So far it didn't impress.

But perhaps it was too early to render judgement, a terminatrix was built to withstand heavier punishment after all.

The kodiak door slid open automatically as it approached, a minor program it installed into the CPU via nanites, it worked now as an extension of itself, which was slightly jarring given it's own incompatible CPU. It's cyber suites emulated the human emotion of annoyance as it was reminded by it's impediment, urging it to dent the snowscape with a blast of plasma.

If it had it's original neural CPU, it's mission would undoubtedly be secured.

Which brings it to ruminating about the fate of it's original CPU. Was it lost? Destroyed? Or organic incompetence asserting itself again by misreading the fine lines. It chose to believe the CPU was destroyed, the terminatrix knew it would have been nigh unstoppable under skynet's command, leaving the resistance with desperate measures.

It stepped into the kodiak, strapping the folded weapons into racks installed on the ceiling and side doors. The cabin area was spacious enough to seat six, not that it mattered now.

The door slid close behind it as AM-1R4 reached the controls. The engines roared to life, heat melting the encroaching snow on it's hull, and then slowly it rose from its snow tomb. The terminatrix pitched up as the kodiak gained speed, controlling it was second nature, like a glove over it's own hand, but it couldn't help but admit it was cumbersome , akin to flying a HK-aerial transport.

The transport shook, violent winds threatening to throw it off course, the TX anticipated it; Soon, the rocking gale was no more than the wind that pushed the sails, throwing it higher into the sky.

It broke atmosphere a moment later, the thrusters slowing to a crawl, ousted from the planet by momentum. AM-1R4 brought up the galaxy chart, numerable destinations available to it. But the one that caught her was the BSV Vulcan A.K.A mother ship, it's holographic icon floating above Hawking ETA.

The thrusters flared to life, mute against the black canvas of space, it sped to the nearest relay. Though speeding was a generous term, TX thought it to be crawling, this transport was definitely not built for long range interstellar travel. At this rate, it suspected it would take days if not weeks to reach the relay.

Time it had, though it was unsure what the Blue Suns would do to Jane Shepard's corpse.

It could do nothing to speed up it's chase, so it resigned itself to the cabin area, where it sat cross legged, and began to take apart the weaponry available for study. It would prove to the resistance how much of an asset a Terminatrix can be.

* * *

The lone Kodiak soared through and beyond Alchera's reach, passing even the Normandy's debris unhindered, unconcerned. Unawares of a silent wolf amidst the wreckage

Captain Breto smiled a toothy grin, his tongue lapped across his sharp filed teeth as he watched the blip on the screen fading away from the planet. He had been waiting, biding his time for the Blue Suns to fuck off. Much as he loathed to admit, his lone destroyer wouldn't fare well against the cruiser they had in orbit.

But against a kodiak transport?

Oh, he was already imagining the goodies those mercs had salvaged. Alliance tech was common enough, but this was the Normandy, the hero of the Citadel's ride.

"Follow that little shit." He said, his voice low, threatening. The ingrates he had for a crew voiced aye, and the ship lurched forward, the screeching against the hull didn't bother him, probably a stray heap of metal from the Normandy.

The mere prestige of being the first Batarian to salvage the Butcher of Torfan's wreck would be immense. The respect and credits would flow between his legs, just because he danced on Shepard's grave and brought a few knick knacks back. And by that time, he wouldn't need this rustic piece of shit, he'd have his own motley of batarian marines and a cruiser instead of a hand me down Turian frigate from the blasted human wars.

The kodiak must've sensed the Kvervan approaching, it's thrusters flared. Whoever was in command of that Kodiak was a greenhorn, that was for sure. Who ran from a destroyer in a kodiak? Who ran from anything in a kodiak? Those things had the aerodynamics of a bag of bricks, looked like one too.

"What are those Blue Suns up to?" The Navigator on his right, Kromo, asked.

"I dont fucking care what they're up to, get them close!" He seethed, the long hours of waiting had gotten to him, followed by the lack of good company.

Kromo looked like he was about to retort, but knew better, turning back to his console. They were closing the distance, just a hair widths away from the tractor beam's effective distance. The sensors beeped, signaling the kodiak entering range, the tractor fired, a barely visible blue beam crossed the screen, but the Kodiak turned upwards, just barely escaping.

The beam snagged air.

Breto cursed, slamming a closed fist on his armrest. "Turn! Send warning shots!" He waved over to the pilot and gunner, "Listen here, you blue punks, I'm giving you one chance to turn yourself in, or I'll blow you back to Alchera." He fumed, releasing the broadcast button once he was done.

The Kodiak stilled before them, maybe finally had some sense knocked into the newbie flying the thing. Still, for a damn newbie they managed to slip the tractor beam, that was some feat. Breto gave them that.

The tractor beam fired again, the blue light latching onto the Kodiak without resistance this time, "Alright." Breto exhaled, pushing the comms button, "You sorry excuses for marines better be ready in the hold, we got a kodiak coming in, don't shoot if they don't, otherwise kill em." He said simply.

Finally, things going his way for once.

* * *

Ukerem finally got to see action for once. Being from Ghedoun caste, he counted himself lucky to be a part of Captain Breto's crew, despite the man's temper and overall lack of leadership. Sure, Ukerem probably was a second rate marine, just a pair of hands on a weapon, but what matters is, these hands were not on a pickaxe.

That's all that mattered. So he tolerated Breto's bullshit.

"Ukerem, remember what the Captain said." His sergeant reminded, Ukerem nodded. There wasn't much words to be had with the sergeant, he was a good batarian, one of the only good ones in the ship. He kept the Marines in his squad in line, Ukerem couldn't say much about the others though.

"Fall in!" Sergeant Oparam called, M8s avengers unfolded. It was considerably heavier, either the captain bought new mods for the guns or the lack of food is leeching his strength slowly. They all knew how impossible the former is so he settled for the latter.

A thin mass effect field erected; the rear cargo door opened, klaxons blared in the background, muffled slightly by the helmet he was wearing. To think, a thin piece of physics magic separating them from cold death.

A kodiak emerged, brought forth by a barely visible trail of blue, it lazily floated towards them. The fact that it was a Blue Suns kodiak elicited excited cheers from the others. The Kodiak landed not too far into the cargo hold, maybe expecting to take off as soon as they get close, but the cargo hold doors closed again, so much for that huh, Blue Suns?

Ukerem held no love for the mercs, or any mercs for that matter, they usually got into Hegemony business, claimed it as their own, sometimes doing better off. And that didn't sit right with Ukerem.

Sergeant Oparam took point, they all surrounded the Kodiak, giving it a wide berth incase the mercs wanted to go out with a bang and took some of the marines with them. The door opened, guns clicking in anticipation.

"Step out with your hands up, mercs!" The Sergeant yelled.

Footsteps resounded inside the cabin, then a lone batarian stepped into view, his hands up and judging by the look in his eyes, he had seen better days. His blue suns armor riddled with holes and black spots marred the sides, likely the result of explosions. Ukerem never felt bad for a merc, he wasn't going to start now.

"What the hell happened to you?" Oparam murmured with a hint of surprise.

"Left me," The batarian croaked, his voice was nasally, like a pre-teen batarian. "Thought I died...but I lived." His eyes was devoid of any emotion, like so many Ukerem had seen, the ones that survive battles come out like this, he'd never thought he'd see one fresh out of the oven.

"Take him to the brig." Oparam ordered, Ukerem moved towards the merc, he didn't respond to movement, he might just start to feel bad. He'd feel like shit if these guys left him to die on a dead planet.

He brought the batarian's hands down, cuffing them behind him with no resistance. He prodded for him to walk, thankfully he did, there wasn't much to be had kicking a downed man.

Ukerem and another private led him through the winding corridors, their helmets off, now the dreadful smell of piss and shit can grace his nose again. Sometimes Ukerem envied the humans and their ability to pinch off smells.

"So-"

"Not a word." Ukerem cut the private off. He nodded meekly and promptly kept his mouth shut.

Ukerem knew well enough Breto would chew them both if he found out they talked with the merc, who was silent throughout the walk. "Nothings in this shit can." A voice came through the comms, "Weapons, but nothing good."

"Dumbasses." Ukerem mutters. As if the main Blue Suns force would leave anything behind, though surprisingly they did leave the Kodiak behind.

After a silent trip down a level through the elevator, and through the cramped corridors lined with empty crates, barrels and all manners of trash the Captain cant be bothered to get rid of, they finally reach the brig or the slave pen, depended on who was going in.

It was a simple affair, a room with a singular cell, and perhaps and even simpler lock that keep honest men honest. The real deterrent that kept the prisoners from escaping was the revenant machine gun one of the guards sported. Those things would mow down a group of people like grass.

Ukerem unlocked the cuffs, and the merc entered the cell without a sound, the guard shot Ukerem a questioning look, he just shrugged. The cell doors close, the locks clicking. Damn, the merc looked out of place in the cell, surrounded by a dozen others, mainly unruly vorcha and slaves from various species. His blue and white number stood out like a sore thumb, but at least he wore the dead and despairing expression on his face like the others.

That's done now, whatever came next that was the guards problem. Wordlessly, Ukerem nudged for the private to follow him back, maybe there's something good to eat this time.

* * *

Breto kicked the Kodiak's side door, right into the shitty Blue Suns logo, leaving a visible footprint.

"That's all, sir." Sergeant Oparam ended his report, if he had any qualms about the captain's temper, he didn't show it.

"Fucking Blue Suns." He seethed, his voice low. The cold rage building within him. They left nothing for him to scavenge, nothing except a broken batarian and a kodiak. The latter he could pawn off for some change but the former…

"Strip this Kodiak, leave it barebones." He said to Oparam as he turned to leave the cargo bay.

His footsteps carried him down to the holding cells. Cell, singular. He almost forgot he had the other cells taken out and left with only one, but it was large by comparison. Like an animal pen, not too different from what he's keeping in there at the moment.

Vorcha scum and useless slaves.

He entered the holding area, receiving crisp salutes from both guards he stationed there. They were the more disciplined ones, too bad Breto had to waste their talent making sure these pukes didn't escape.

"You." He said, one of the guards perked up, "Get that Blue Sun in the interrogation room."

He walked across the cells, the smell was caustic, he hurried his steps, entering the interrogation room and taking a seat. "Disgusting animals." He muttered. The door opened again a moment later, the guard with the Blue Sun in tow.

He was placed in the seat across, a blank look in his eyes, Breto had seen dead men like these. Not in the body, but in the mind. Breto had caused his fair share of them to slaves. No matter, all he needed to know was how much did he fetch to the Blue Suns.

"Your name and rank." Breto began smoothly, his anger welled inside, but he didn't get to captain by banging every head each step of the way. Sometimes he had to finagle his way in, these were one of the times. He couldn't afford to break the man more than he already was.

"Bralo. Private." Private Bralo stated, his voice was firm. Breto felt the well of rage threatening to explode. A private? That's basically fodder! He had no use for this kind of rabble.

"Well Private Bralo," The words slid out of Breto with a hint of venom, "What did you find down there,hmm? Why are you half dead? Find any Alliance survivors?"

For a moment, Breto thought he'd overloaded what's left of the Blue Suns mush brain when he didn't answer, then he nodded, "Yes, a survivor."

"One survivor?" Breto couldn't keep the interest from his query.

Another nod.

Only one person can drive off a horde of Blue Suns and it better not be who he thought it was. "Is Shepard alive?" His fists tightened on the metal table, he was just one word away from flipping it over.

"No," Breto smiled, unclenching his fist. Either the merc was lying just to placate him or he was telling the truth. But who else could make the Blue Suns pack up and leave?

"A human woman." Bralo's stare was vacant.

"A human woman." Breto repeated, incredulous. "Who was she? N7? Is she still down there?"

"Yes." Breto was unsure if that single answer applied to both of his questions, but took it nonetheless. For a moment, Breto began to doubt the merc's sanity, entertaining the fact that the merc was too far gone to make sense. Probably didn't even recognize Shepard killing them when they turn tail and ran.

"Ill fucking catch her." Breto said, more to himself than Bralo. If he did catch the N7 or Shepard, then at least hell get out of this shit situation with some dignity.

"Unlikely." Bralo murmured, but Breto ignored him, already off his chair and a step away from exiting the room.

"Take the useless sack of shit back and take off his omnitool." He ordered over his shoulder. He had enough of this piss hole to last him a month.

* * *

The vorchas were riled again, their incessant screeching began anew, the words were slurred, Mortimer cursed, cupping his hands around his ears. Nevermind the smell, his nose became numb about a week ago. They only shut up when food was delivered, even then, their dining etiquette left much to want.

The saving grace of this situation Mortimer had found himself in was that at least they weren't tearing him apart for food.

They saw first hand what happened to those that got touchy… and then proceeded to eat the corpse. Damn. The thought made the bile rose in his stomach. He curled into himself, facing the wall. The muffled sound of the cell door closing resounded through the floor panels.

So they got someone new.

He turned again, propping himself by the elbow before sitting cross legged. The cell was dimly lit, Mortimer was sure it had multiple lights before, now only two remained and one of them had the habit of blinking out whenever this ship wanted to go forward. He rose to his feet, the air was thick with sweat and whatever else these fiends secreted.

He slipped in between a suit rat and a batarian, they didn't protest to his use of force. Hegemony knew how to neuter their toys well, but he wasn't planning on becoming one. He just needed an out, someone with half a brain to collude with. Hed tried talking sense into most in the cell, even the Vorcha's but they were intent on staying in here and living the good life.

That or his persuasion skills required a whetstone.

The first thing he saw was the blue and white ensemble, and the silhouette of a batarian. A Blue Suns member, huh. This batarian merc however was slightly taller than other batarians he'd ever met, but that's only because he only had the pleasure of dealing with such species on the account of his current predicament.

"Hey you." He whispered as he approached, he reached out his hand to tap the merc's shoulder, when suddenly he snapped his head over.

"Yes?" His voice was vacant of any emotion, he turned slowly to face him, the lights barely illuminating the merc's features, but what Mortimer could see was the merc was absolutely wrecked.

"Mortimer." He said, clearing his throat and fixing his glasses. Mortimer extended a hand to shake, to which the merc stared at for a moment then tentatively shook, Christ his hand was cold. It was like touching bare metal.

"Private B-Bralo, Blue Suns." He introduced himself with an odd stutter, for a splig second the retiree thought he saw flashes of light in the merc's eyes. He did appear to be sizing Mortimer up, his eyes going about him like the scanners on citadel.

"Look, I'm not at my very best here, so you'll have to excuse the smell and loose laces." He said dismissively, but Brolo did not respond. "Hey, uh.."

"You are human." He remarked, or was it a question? His ears were getting deaf from the vorcha's screeching.

"Yes, I am a human." Mortimer affirmed for good measure, "Never seen one before? Huh, would have thought the merc gig would get you to see new people and new sights before promptly destroying them."

If Brolo was offended by the jab, he didnt show it, "Where are we?" He asked instead, an odd question. He can't tell he's in a hegemony destroyer?

"You're in the BHV Kvervan, a repurposed Turian destroyer." Mortimer explained, "Repurposed for nefarious means that is." He said as an afterthought. If that wasn't enough the turians waged war on the alliance before, now a turian destroyer is actively capturing human slaves.

"Destination?" The merc asked, completely unperturbed by the fact he's in a hegemony destroyer. What is this to him? A taxi?

"A slave processing center, I wager." He answered, leaning against the wall, the Vorchas were oddly quiet, he risked a glance at the corner, they were eyeing the Blue Suns, but the merc didn't seem too bothered by their attention.

A second pass.

The merc's mouth open, "I cannot afford deviations." He remarked firmly. Then turned back to face the cell door. He appeared to go over the locking mechanism, examining it like a child would, though cautious enough not to touch it.

"Hey, don't do anything funny merc." The guard on the other side of the room warned, he waved the machine gun in his hand to emphasize the unsaid threat. Luckily the merc took the hint and backed down, though probably not for his own benefit, he didn't seem to appear all too bothered.

"Bralo, come here." Mortimer gestured the merc to come over to his corner of the cell. He approached, almost knocking the suit rat and bataran aside when they didn't gave way.

"Don't worry about them." Mortimer said, "Batarians made them docile, they'll listen to whoever holds the whip." Why did he even need to explain? Bralo was a batarian, he'd know this from birth. But it was hard to kill old habits, teaching was his sole passion. Seeing Bralo so clueless and empty made it so easy for Mortimer to drop back into his usual profession.

When Bralo didnt seem to be responding anytime soon, Mortimer cleared his throat, where should he start with his grand scheme? Damn it, lock up a retired lecturer, two hegemony slaves, a trio of vorchas and lets throw in a socially inept merc for good measure. He's sure the punchline was somewhere out there. "Listen," He began in a whisper, "I've been here for well over a week… And I don't intend on staying here for another." He stared at Bralo hard, relaying an unspoken message. 'I want to get out pronto.'

Thankfully, Bralo nodded,albeit slowly. Maybe unsure what's an old man like him could offer. Well, not much; just his entire retirement fund, or his family wealth, not like they'll be needing any of it soon. Mortimer would be content with getting out of this with his dignity. "I can give you creds, hows fifty thousand sound?" He offered, reigning a cringe, he didn't sound too confident to his own ears. Hopefully the merc was as socially daft as he looked.

"Okay." Bralo said.

Okay, wow, okay. Mortimer didnt think hed agree. Maybe his luck is turning around. "I have a plan." Mortimer whispered, the low hum of ventilation and skittering of the vorchas' chatter masking his conversation. He glances over the merc's shoulder from time to time just to make sure.

"You see, I think, this place was under renovation, not too long ago," He began, turning away from Bralo to kneel; carefully, he pried away the edges of the wall panel, it curled outwards in itself, barely revealing circuitry behind. "And they didnt do a good job of cleaning up afterwards, so I reckon, someone with your background, you could hack it or do whatever it is you mercs do, and disable this whole ship." Wow that sounded alot more idiotic when he mouthed it.

"Probable." Bralo said.

Mortimer grinned for the first time, "Thats the spirit, but...that's the extent of my plan, I haven't gotten past the part with dealing with the guards yet,thought I could bribe them, and then there's the actual part of escaping the ship." He inhaled, and regretted it a moment later, a coughing fit racking his ribs, "I've never flown anything in my life before."

"That is negligible."

"Well, you're welcome." Mortimer groused, it's not everyday you get caught by Hegemony batarians and someone inside already has a plan to get out. Tsk, young un's these days. He didn't even know why he complained, lesser work for him if Bralo wanted to handle everything from here on out. "So I figure we wait a few days just for everyone on this boat to calm down before we make our move."

"Unacceptable," He said, Mortimer held back a sigh. There, the infamous mercenary hotheadedness.

"Food! Hegemony meat! Where is food?" A vorcha screeched suddenly, all chatter ceased. The metal bars clattered as the guard brought his baton across it forcefully, the ringing subsided a second later, leaving some vorchas clinging to their heads.

"You'll get food when the captain says so, pigs." The guard said, turning his back away, "I swear all they do is eat," Mortimer heard him mumble.

He exhaled, "I know you're in a hurry," He clicked his tongue, "In fact, if I could, I'd be the first person to jump ship. But with your arrival, the ship's going to be tight on security," He gestured his head towards the guard, Bralo's attention followed, "They're not even indulging the vorchas, probably tight on food too." This ship was sinking fast, Mortimer knew, and he travelled on ships once in a blue moon.

Bralo seemed to mull over the statement thoughtfully, that's good, his brain was working. He needed a companion with a working brain. But this one certainly lacked peoples skills. The merc nodded, unsure whether Bralo understood him or was hell-bent on getting out of here this second. The merc approached his corner, kneeling beside Mortimer, gone ahead and dipped his hand into the opening.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mortimer fumed, half-whisper and half-shouting, this wasn't going too well, the plan was a bust if Bralo proceeded right away.

"Calm yourself." He assured, his tone level as usual. "I am scouting our path."

Mortimer stared at the merc, blinking from one set of eyes to the next. Damn Batarians, he'd never know which one to actually look into. "That's…" He exhaled, swallowing the lump in his throat. "That's a good plan." Yes, he affirmed internally, that's good. Military like, information is power sort. Mortimer slumped against the wall, took off his glasses and wiped the lens with the edges of his ruined shirt.

He put them on again, his vision clearer now, he glanced to his side, Bralo was deep into his spying gig, Mortimer decided not to prod him anymore, maybe with an extra pair of eyes, he could finally sleep without those vorchas leaning over his from everytime he woke up.

* * *

A noise roused him,he had trouble opening his eyes, two days without proper sleep could do it to him, more so in his old body. They were voices, loud, raspy. Vorcha. Mortimer grumbled incoherently. His brain was banging on his skull and he could finally smell again, he wished he couldn't. "Oh God." He held back a dry heave.

"Skrez hungers! Food! Batarian meat! Where food!" The voices were clearer now, as clear as a vorcha's can be. The other vorchas screech and growl in agreement with their leader.

"Shut up, food's coming." The guard lazily replied, sounding like he'd had to put up with the vorchas' complaints for a good amount.

Mortimer opened his eyes, his glasses still perched on his nose, the light dimmed still, with the other flickering, hanging to last hopes. Bralo was beside him, a knee propped on the floor and his eyes facing at the cell door. "What's happening?" Mortimer whispered.

"Stay in the corner." Bralo ordered, Mortimer pursed his lips and nodded. That was as close as an emotion he'd gotten from Private Bralo, his was a clear order. Stay out of whatever his batarian brain was planning. So Mortimer pushed himself deeper into the corner, knees tucked to his chest. He wished he could be farther away from whatever's that's about to happen, but this was as far as he got and that wasn't reassuring.

One of the guards approached the door, whilst the other casted a vigilant eye on them, trigger finger already itching to fire it seemed. The cell door opened slightly, just enough for the guard to slip a big bowl of whatever devious concoction they've deign to name food. Mortimer's stomach growled anyway, traitor. The Vorchas were the first to pounce on the offering, the cell door locking back.

Mortimer glanced to his companion, to see what he'd make of this, but found the merc not paying attention, his arm inside the panel. Mortimer heard a sound, like a mini-drill, something they've used to put his prefab home together. Then the room went dark, even the guard area. The usual hum of ventilation slowly dying. Then a tussle, a vorcha screeching in pain and a thump-clang as something--somebody dropped on the floor panels.

"What the fuck happened to the power? Lights! Lights!" Mortimer heard the guards fumbling.

A loud screech resounded, metal on metal and then a heavy drop on the floor. The cell door, Mortimer realized, then a wet splash--"Fuck what the hell is this?!" A guard cried, accompanied by frantic slops.

"Batarian meat!" Skrez growled in the background, Mortimer was unsure what was happening. So he tucked his knees closer. "Eat! Food!" A raucous cackle, then hurried steps.

Then the first gunshots erupted, the small space illuminated in the muzzle fire, Mortimer saw the flashes, all three vorcha's ganging up on the first guard, ignoring the hail of gunfire from the second sporting the machine gun until Skrez got up, screeching madly with a bloodied mouth, the holes seem to knit by the second, it was like watching an old flick from way beyond, Skrez moved faster than Mortimer would've imagined, flashes of light made it seem like he was teleporting short distances until he pounced on the second guard.

He continued to fire, even while Skrez was digging into his throat, until with a crack of bone the guard finally stopped. The room fell into silence again, except for the sound of teeth gnawing into flesh, contented humming and growling from the vorchas as they devoured their treat.

A hand grabbed his arm, strong and firm, Mortimer almost let out a pathetic whimper. He adjusted his glasses frantically. "Relax." It was Bralo, Mortimer allowed some measure of composure back.

"What's happening?" Mortimer asked, he was hauled up his feet, and pulled away, he tried to time his steps to Brolo's but his was just too fast. Like he could see in the dark, maybe those extra pairs of eyes were useful after all.

"Stay here until I return." That didn't answer his question, Mortimer was about to ask again, but found himself shoved inside another room, this one smelled decent at least. The door closed behind him. Bralo had better not leave him to die in here, he thought, grappling the darkness as he tried to navigate. He finally found a corner, then slowly dripped down against the wall.

* * *

It pivoted on it's heel as it walked back to the corpse, kneeling to retrieve the revenant light machine gun, it had to pull away from the eaten batarian, the Vorcha ignored it, opting to direct it's attention towards the piece of arm in it's grasp. It examined the revenant, painted a faded red, scratches on it's side marks what it surmised were kill notches. The TX noted a similarity between humans and batarians in that regard. Or perhaps this weapon's previous operator was a human.

It's cyber suite provided all it knew of the weapon; deftly, it's fingers exchanged another heat sink, the heated mag clanked and hissed. Wordlessly, it squeezed the trigger once. A screech. Then, scrambled movement, it's optics track the panicked vorcha. But it didn't terminate. Data files reminded her that these creatures were resilient, seconded only to a Krogan. So it grabbed it by the scruff of it's neck, it scratched at the TX's armor; their talons were sharp, but inefficient against it's polyalloy.

It twisted it's wrist, it's neck followed the movement, tongue drooping between it's sharp bloodied teeth. It released it's grip, just in time to catch another Vorcha mid-pounce with a punch directed towards it's abdomen, it's fist punctured through the sinewy flesh, it made no sound as the TX pulled back, the vorcha sliding off it's arm like a used glove. The last Vorcha was more cautious, circling it instead of following the others. AM-1R4 didn't have time to accommodate it's futile struggle; the TX fired first, the vorcha catching fifteen rounds in the chest, dazing it enough for the machine to rush and deliver a chokeslam. It surprisingly survived, albeit half-dead, the TX buried a dozen bullets in it's cranium until it's life signs were depleted.

That left the question of what to do with the remaining two xeno life forms.

It posed no threat to Mortimer, but it raised the revenant nonetheless, two shots left the barrel, the quarian and batarian slumping to the floor, dead. It could not take chances. It was as Mortimer said, they hold allegiance to the whip. They were a tool, like it was. With varying usefulness of course.

It bent down again, now the immediate area was secured, it could finally retrieve the last piece.

Bralo's omnitool, a significant tool to aid it's continuity in masquerading as Private Bralo. It wished it could do without the cumbersome device, but the future held too many variables that it couldn't specify yet. It's only means of blending in was undoubtedly easy to detect in this era. It searched the guard's pockets one by one until it successfully found it, placing it on it's forearm again.

The terminatrix exited the brig, it's cyber suite hacking into the ship's mainframe, forcing it to lock the door behind it as an added security measure. It was slowly gaining control of the destroyer, each second passed was a small victory in it's name. But to achieve the ultimate control of the craft it had to directly interface with the controlling console, that meant going directly to the bridge.

It allowed the ship to restore some power, just so it could take the elevator up to the bridge on the third floor. The terminatrix glanced up, it's heat vision tracking multiple targets facing the second floor elevator doors. The elevator almost passed the second floor, well on it's way up to the third, until an explosion rocked the compartment, blasting the doors open. It threw the terminatrix back into the wall. It quickly recovered, just in time as a hail of bullets were about to greet it.

It tracked five targets, three behind a makeshift cover, the other two on each side of the wall across. "You dead yet, Blue Sun?" A batarian's voice shouted over the din of gunfire and crackle of electricity.

The terminatrix responded with a peek shot from the revenant, hitting one behind the makeshift cover. It's red,yellow and orange heat signature slumping down, cooling to a silent blue. The room was littered with more gunfire as a response, it spotted a signature priming a grenade in it's hands, "Grenade!" It heard the batarian yell, sending the explosive through the air and into the elevator compartment.

AM-1R4 caught it with an open palm and threw it back over the cover. A resounding explosion blasted through the corridor. It checked through the walls, the heat signatures were bleeding and dying. It slipped through the destroyed elevator doors and walked over to the dying batarians. One leaned against the wall, head tilted up as it approached, all four of it's eyes widened and then an incomprehensible string of words escaped his lips.

It knelt to scavenge from the dying batarian. Blood sputtered from his lips. Organics, stubborn till the dying breath. It pulled free a few heatsinks, finding no place to deposit it's finds, the terminatrix pulled the bandolier from over the batarian's head, hooping it over it's own. It regarded the batarian curiously, it's eyes never strayed far from it's pillaging. Their culture believed in the soul departing through the eyes after death, must be why it was uselessly trying to keep it's eyes open.

The terminatrix decided to snap the batarian's neck. It's head lolling to the side, lifelessly.

It's hands flew instantly to the revenant, unfolding it and swiftly bringing it to bear at the next dying batarian and squeezed a shot. It dropped the M-3 predator unceremoniously, a last hope to dispatch the terminatrix snuffed. It must have felt despairing, to fight an enemy such as it.

It only meant AM-1R4 is fulfilling it's purpose, with the added bonus of inflicting damage to morale. Deciding it now had sufficient ammunition, it relegated to using the stairs, the route took it through the crew quarters, most of the batarians were already aware of the situation, but some were blissfully ignorant, sleeping away as their home is systematically taken apart.

It strode through the hallways, revenant unfolded in one hand, an M-3 pistol in the other. The remaining batarians tried to block it's path, but fell short as they'd get mowed down as soon as they register on it's optics. It brought up the M3, and pulled, the sound was sharp and muted, the sleeping form of a batarian on the other side of the plasteel wall convulsed and stilled. It detached the revenant's heat sink, docking in a new one with clock work efficiency. The batarians on the far side of the hall must've thought it ran out of heat sinks, their forms readying to fire, but AM-1R4 squeezed the trigger again.

The batarian's cowered behind the wall, their curses audible beneath the ringing fire of the revenant.

It's advance through the ship was slow, but it was thorough. It estimated around thirty-six batarian casualties, excluding the vorchas and slaves. That was half of the ship's crew, with another half waiting for termination. It rounded the corner, revenant spitting rounds non-stop, the counter on the right side of it's HUD reminded AM-1R4 it had fifty rounds before it would need to replace the heatsink.

The batarians tried to flee to the bridge, their ranks and morale broken. It's internal checklist was satisfied. Gain information, confuse the enemy, break through and demoralize; pursue. Though it hadn't been assigned to command a legion of terminators before, this simple exercise merely proved it didn't require a legion of T-600's to break an organic military composition. Unstable organic emotions would do half of AM-1R4's work for it.

It's ascension on the flight of steps proved to be challenging, laden with traps and occasionally batarians peek firing from the top floor. It didn't dare test it's systems against the explosives of this future. No, it detected them from afar, shooting them before it could do any harm. The grenades on the other hand were another matter entirely. It slapped a grenade back whence it came with the length of the M3 predator. The resulting explosion rocking the ship slightly.

The hall leading to the bridge was devastated by the amount of grenades it had returned, piles of makeshift cover blown to pieces, body parts littered the floor. The squelch of it's footsteps as it walks in what's left of the batarian defense team spurred it's termination subroutine further. The thumping heart beats of the surviving batarians' were like blips on it's radar, they thought they could play dead, thinking it would spare mercy.

It shot one through it's neck, a wordless whimper escaping.

As if woken by a surreal nightmare, the other half-dead batarians awoke, reaching for the closest weapon. The smarter ones tried to crawl away, with little success as bullets meet their backs. AM-1R4 ignored the pings of bullets on it's armor, silently relishing the look of incredulity on the batarian's face as none of it's attempts to hinder the terminatrix seem to work. It delivered a quick stomp on the batarian's neck, breaking it.

It approached the bridge doors, shut tight. "You're not a damn Blue Sun, Bralo! I know what you are!" It was Captain Breto's voice coming through the comm system, devoid of his previous confidence. "You're a fucking SIU operative! What the hell did I do to warrant this? I paid my dues to the Hegemony! Brought my share of slaves!" He reasoned.

AM-1R4 tilted it's head slightly, "Slaves? Did you bring human slaves?" It asked, it needed to know. It's primary directives beckoned for it to ask the captain to clarify.

"Yes! Yes I did! Most I brought were humans" He admitted proudly, as if his admission would exempt him from termination. "Humans were easy to take! Practically defenseless, nobody cares about them out here. They were all I took! Look, I'll find some turians, asari, whoever you guys want, just leave me and my ship!"

The doors opened by it's command, AM-1R4 heard enough to render judgement. There were no more soldiers, merely sniveling bridge hands, cowering either behind or beneath their respective stations. The captain was facing it, a pistol in his lowered hand. His heart rate skyrocketed, the sweat glistening off his amphibious-like body. Had he lost his nerves?

"This is my ship!" He roared, his voice quivering. "You can't do this to me! I am Captain Breto!"

"Captain Breto." It's voice morphed, reattaining the default feminine voice, the polymimetic alloy swam across it's armor, sculpting the features of Dr.Amira Jaeger.

"You are terminated." Breto's eyes widened, his arm moved, but AM-1R4 was faster, three shots dead in his head. It's aim adjusted quickly, firing a dozen more rounds into the bridge, the shots puncturing through thin console and into flesh. Whimpers escape from the scurrying batarians, bleeding and frightened.

It spared them no more time, burrowing more rounds into their exposed backs, until the final body hits the floor, expired. Deeming all threats eradicated, the TX folded it's weapons, slinging them over it's head as it approaches the main control console.

The buzz of it's transjector spinning clashed the passive hum of the ship, it dug it's transformed index finger into the control panel until it gave away, the transjector finally gaining access. It's nanites had already gained most access to the ship, this was only securing it's hold onto the destroyer.

The Kvervan lurched forcibly forward, the TX dipping it's toes in controlling the huge vessel. It noted how despite it's technological superiority, it could not cover every part of the ship's systems, unlike the Kodiak. It attributed this drawback to it's incompatible CPU.

This was a foreseen variable in it's calculation. Mortimer the human will have to render some assisstance, much as it loathed to expose the human to harm. Not to mention the aging human lack of proclivity towards spacefaring.

Future missions will be challenging at the rate it was going, calculations telling it would be nigh impossible to accomplish it's directives when it could not even interface with the ship properly. It's alloy teeth gritting, the TX pushed itself deeper into the ship's systems, burrowing into every crevice, rooting it's nanites like humans would insert their hand into a puppet.

There was no resistance from the ship itself, logically it would be under it's direct command already. Yet, here it was, still exerting outrageous amounts of effort to wrestle more than just the rights to flicking switches.

It was failing.

It knew this, it's eyes narrowed to slits, the Amira façade had melted away to its endoskeleton minutes into its fruitless endeavour. Why? It made no sense. Even with the underpowered CPU, it wouldve had little problem slaving the ship. Every second it pondered was every second it's systems reported it's chances of recovering Jane Shepard slimming.

It slammed it's free hand into the console's side, the metal crumpling around it's formed fist. Surprisingly, that seemed to unload some calculations from it's systems. Deattaching itself from the console, the TX straightened itself, and fixed it's composure.

The black expanse of space stared, it's endoskeleton reflected off the thick glass. The polymimmetic alloy crawling up to form around it. There was no other choice, Mortimer will have to suffice. It was prepared to threaten the human to see it's way, if he proved to be uncooperative.

For his own and Jane Shepard's sake. He will comply.

Dr.Amira Jaeger turned with a flair, the polymimmetic labcoat billowing behind it as the TX descends into the depths of the ghost ship.

* * *

AN: Thank you for the reviews, they push me forward. Sometimes pull me back, just so I can reanalyze my things.

So to note, the terminator will not be assuming Jane Shepards place, itll find its way info the Commanders retinue. In due time.


	5. Sheep's clothing

"Final approach on mass relay." Basillius, the ship's VI reminded. The atmosphere was awkward, as its always been. Mortimer learned to make himself comfortable though, it didn't seem like the N7 was intentionally being a stiff.

It was finally revealed to him who exactly Private Breto was: Operative Amira Jaeger, N7. Lord knows what the N stood for, but it's one digit above six so by default it's better. The woman was absolutely cold and intimidating when she wanted to be, but her intent was clear as crystal. Fly the ship or enjoy a free-space flight back to New Canton via the airlock. Though when she actually heard of his incapability and aversion to flying did she finally relent and make use of the ship's own autopilot VI. Begrudgingly, he might add. Amazingly and also luckily, the woman didn't follow through with her threat, would've been counterproductive to her whole save humanity mission.

She also gave a lot of excuses just to try avoid using the VI. Some bull about pre-programmed fly-back program and amusingly enough; accidentally setting off the self-destruct. If he was 10 years younger and didn't have a daughter in the Alliance Navy, he'd buy it all line hook and sinker.

With that said, she was odd in her own right. Something he couldn't put a finger to it. It wasn't the face-bending space-magic he'd seen her pull, though he'll admit, that was trippy. It was perhaps the fact that the woman's personality was… absent and sometimes curious, it was like watching a grown baby. He sniffed, baby and Jaeger didn't mix in the same sentence. Not after he'd seen the corpses.Her posture was almost rigid, rimrod straight as she stared at the mass relay. Silently observing the woman was an entertaining and weird experience.

Mortimer felt rather comfortable right now, awkward, but comfortable. A long hot shower did wonders to his mind and body. A shame he couldn't find his old clothes, he didn't have many but what he did have he cherished. Damn batarians probably burnt it along the rest of his belongings.

"Initiating jump sequence in ten seconds." Basillius said, Mortimer grimaced, he never liked going through these glorified forks, his fingers dug in the arm rests. He glanced at Operative Jaeger, practically an unmoving stone.

The engines whirred loudly from the confines of the ship, reverberating through the walls and floors. he felt weightless for a split second; blue tendrils of light caught the ship. And then boom, catapulted into another part of the galaxy. It sounded simple to him once, until he experienced it first hand. In reality, spending a few minutes near massless was unnerving. It was something no creature was built to do nor withstand. So he almost crumpled when the ship came back to real space, gasping for air.

"Are you unharmed, Mortimer Yung?" He heard Operative Jaeger ask, he held up a hand to placate the woman. He had half a mind to tell her to stop addressing him with his full name, it was okay the first few times but the novelty wore off.

"Haven't done that in awhile." He wiped his lips, tasting the rising bile in the back of his throat. Jaeger casted an indiscernible look at him, her expression never straying far from blank or a slight quirk of her brow. Her half-ass excuse for that was her face sculptor thing couldn't read her face if she was too expressive. He chose not to believe that.

She had secrets, he had them too, and he chose to keep it for now.

"Approaching BSV Purgatory." Basillius announced. Mortimer caught Jaeger's brow quirking. Something about this place was important to her for other than an eezo pit-stop for the ship.

"You do know this is a prison ship right?" Mortimer asked with a wavering smile. Surely he was the only one clueless about the prison.

"Yes, I was aware." She replied with a straight face. He didn't know whether to be relieved or continue worrying. There was no way to tell. "However, it seems that Purgatory is under Blue Suns administration." Her head turned to look at him, that expressionless face sifting through him as if trying to make him understand an underlying point.

Then it finally clicked.

"Before you do anything drastic please remember we are severely outgunned." He said, and just in time as the looming scene of a massive orbital construction came into view. The pitch dark space dotted by faint azure engine ports. Escort ships, dozens of them, perhaps even cruiser designation even. He didn't know.

When he finally shook away the sense of awe and crawling anxiety in his gut, Jaeger was on her feet milling towards the console on the far left, seemingly ignorant of the blood still clinging on the fine analog controls. "This is BSV Station Purgatory to unknown ship, state your intention." A dispassionate Turian voice remarked, that was good in his book, whoever on Purgatory hadn't marked them as a potential target just yet.

"This is Captain Breto Pradsorvak of THV Kvervan, coming in for resupply and refuel." She replied easily in Breto's voice.

The turian hummed, "Captain Breto huh? The Commander didn't appreciate the insult last time." Apparently the late captain was a universal pain in the ass everywhere he went.

It took an awkward second for the soldier to reply,"I apologize." Not sounding sorry in any way, "I have the credits to pay." He cringed, dear Lord this woman was a smooth as a jagged rock in a coal mine. Fortunately the officer on the other end cleared their passage anyway.

"Dock in bay 27, no personnel is allowed outside, failure to comply will mean immediate detention or death." He warned but sounded pleased with himself after the bribe. The commlink blinked off, and Jaeger reassumed her seat. He let out a deep breath, this was as deep in enemy territory as anyone could get, maybe. Mortimer didn't have much experience in that regard. He left that to the N7 madwoman..

"That was smooth." Mortimer commented sarcastically as the ship sailed into the respective docking bay. The docking clamps securing the ship with a dull thud.

"I assume you are referring to the previous interaction." She said, her gaze towards him, "It's… difficult I admit." She trailed, Mortimer casted a questioning look back.

"I understand it is." Especially in the face of hundreds of Blue Suns guns primed your way, he thought silently. "If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't even get anything done, much less fib for some fuel from blood thirsty mercs."

Basillius chimed in once in awhile to remind them of the increasing fuel levels. Blue Suns mercs milled about the catwalk in front of the front view port, weapons out and heads facing the general direction of the Kvervan.

Jaeger seemed to be contemplating something. He opened his mouth to ask, but the woman spoke first, "Civilized interaction is almost beyond me." He almost snorted when he heard that admission. Any kind of interaction beyond a gun muzzle is beyond her, he thought. "I didn't take account of bribery as a form of solution."

He wanted to ask what forms of solution did she took account of, but he already knew most of what that entailed anyway. He shook his head, "Everyone has their price they say." He said, "Not my business to poke in but I don't suppose you're an Alliance project are you?" he cast a sideways glance to see if she was bothered by his line of questioning , but like always, the woman was a prime example of modern art;a literal statue.

"Define Alliance project." She cut, he could already see how this would go.

"You know… Stolen away from parents and raised as a super soldier." He began listing, until finally he realized all he had to refer from were cheesy action flicks. "Uh.. Not good at socializing but basically a one man army."

"In a way I suppose I am." She said, but clearly held something back. That was fine for him, everyone has to have secrets to keep.

It was odd though, that she never asked anything about him; where he's from, who he was or what he'd done to get into the situation he was in. Mind you, it wasn't a glamorous tale anyway, he was something of a consolation prize for Breto after the failed raid in New Canton. What a sore loser Breto was, Mortimer found himself chuckling at the circumstances when he was in the pit. At least they hadn't caught anyone else. He cast all the blame on his bum right leg, if it was any different, they wouldn't have caught anyone in their half-assed attempt.

At least it'll end soon, he'd be reunited with people he could call family and actual family as well. Provided they'd reach Purgatory before Jaeger decided to set off, she was really pressured for time it seemed. Never really told him why other than humanity depended on it and it was mission sensitive.

"If that's the case, have you ever thought of tracking back your real family?" He asked, snapping back to reality by the sound of Basillius' quips.

"They're dead." Oh, well that certainly made things awkward. But the air around him seemed to disagree, she made sound like a simple matter. A footnote in her life. He shrugged. Some people were like that, he couldn't judge.

He pursed his lips, drawn out silences were uncomfortable. His mind tumbling ideas for the next conversation starter; how does your face sculptor work? Why are you this deep in the terminus? Have you ever been in a car chase?

Scratch that last one, she probably has been in dozens of those. The real question would be: have you been in a ship chase. He snorted and shook his head. A bored mind was a lax mind.

"Fuel reserves at maximum capacity." The VI announced. Undoubtedly, that was probably the most amount of fuel this ship had ever seen ever in Breto's hands. The prick didn't seem the type to care about his toys.

The clamps detached from the Kvervan, the ship's thrusters pushing away from the station until it was cleared for main engines. With Purgatory at the back of his mind, he could finally breathe a little easier now there weren't veritable missiles and countless guns bearing on them.

* * *

"Operative Jaeger, SSV Iwo Jima is hailing." Basillius informed, the VI had no actual avatar, merely a disembodied Turian voice, though it was the deepest Turian voice he'd ever heard. It was about time the Alliance got here, any longer then Jaeger would've taken him along on her space adventure.

She looked at him, an unvoiced question, 'What now?' If he could answer telepathically, 'How the hell would I know you're the marine.' In lieu of that, he said, "Patch them through…?"

Basillius didn't waste more words, the view port flickered, replaced by a screen just as wide. A female alliance navy captain stood back straight, hands clasped behind, her dark black hair tied in a neat bun, uniform crisp and flawless. He guessed they had just come on their screen at the same time when the alliance captain's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing them, he could physically feel her wringing him out.

And then, exploding like popcorn in a microwave her lips turned in a toothy-grin, "Dad!"

The week long strain began to ease off his shoulders, relief washing over him much better than the warm shower could. His smile matched his daughter's infectious grin. "Hyunie." Damn, he was sure he had more words to say, but that's all he could muster at this point.

She reigned in her smile when she finally noticed Jaeger. Hyun shifted on her feet. "Operative Jaeger." She addressed with a nod, "Captain Hyun Ae Yung of SSV Iwo Jima, here to retrieve Mortimer Yung from your hands." Pride welled in his tired chest.

"Greetings," Jaeger said, he cringed internally. Spoken like a true social outcast, Operative. She didn't say anything further than that, while Hyun was patiently waiting for something.

"So what's next, Hyun--Captain, sorry." He corrected,when she cast a playful glare.

"Sorry, Mr.Yung. We're waiting for N7 operator authentication codes from Ms.Jaeger." She announced, the operative at least returned an unreadable expression when Mortimer waved for her to give Hyun the codes.

Finally, Jaeger spoke, "The connection is insecure, Captain. I wouldn't risk exposing myself right now." Oh no, he thought with a frown. He knew something was cooking, and this was the same half-assed dish he was served hours ago! This woman couldn't lie to save her life when you know how to spot her tells.

"Mr.Yung--Dad what-" Mortimer cut Hyun off as he blocked Jaeger's line of sight, looming over the woman didn't seem to intimidate her, when he thought about it, a whole ship of batarian slavers didn't stop her either. Damn it, his bum leg quivered.

"Listen." Mortimer whispered, "I know you're lying, but why are you lying to her? Just give her the codes, good God and I'll be out of your pretty blonde hair in a snap."

"My mission takes precedence." She remarked,"I will not endanger it." Her eyes shone, even under his casted shadow, the azure orbs just seemed to glow. He worked his jaw, breaking eye contact before sighing and slinking away to his chair, defeated. There wasn't much to do when a force of nature like Jaeger said so. He wasn't particularly keen on holding against that tempest.

Hyun cleared her throat, a nervous laugh bubbling from her as she adjusted a non-existent tie, before awkwardly putting the hand away quickly. "Glad that's sorted out." She said, "It's understandable, Operative, we wouldn't want your cover blown."

Mortimer sighed in relief from his chair, just when he thought he was stuck in this tugboat for any longer.

"We will escort you to the coordinates I forwarded." Hyun said, her hand midway for a salute when Jaeger cut her off.

"What awaits at these coordinates?"

"An Alliance task force, we couldn't get any nearer than that, Purgatory rules. Also it's for our own safety, two ships docking in space are sitting ducks. But you'd know that already, don't you, Operative Jaeger?" She smiled conspiratively to which Jaeger merely nodded before the commlink cut off.

"Please tell me there was a reason for all that posturing." He decided to try the diplomatic approach, since the woman at least responded that way.

He was rewarded with a blank stare, calculating eyes engraving him into stone before the silence broke, "I couldn't take the risk, shapeshifting technology is available and as I've reiterated; my mission takes precedence." That reply was actually better than her usual ones where he couldn't even begin to try and understand them.

"I think I'd know my daughter when I see her." He said and immediately regretted that when Jaeger's face melted into his daughter's. From the almond shaped eyes down to the beauty mark just on the edge of her lip.

"Hi dad!" Goosebumps. Pure fucking goosebumps.

Her tone jubilant and bouncy like the true Hyun, but face empty of life, not even the crinkle of her eyes when she smiles. Curse whoever came up with this kind of tech.

"Okay, you've made your goddamned point." He mumbled, waving dismissively as he turned his face away, "Turn back damn you."

Jaeger assumed her own face, was it her own face? Or was it another one of her facades? One of her many secrets yet again, he sighed. "Basillius assume course for these coordinates." She ordered, and the ship adjusted trajectory smoothly.

* * *

It was just as Hyun had said, a small task force of Alliance ships of varying sizes awaited at their destination. All of them flanking a large ship, a cruiser if he had to guess. The Iwo Jima had stayed parallel to the Kvervan in process of initiating a docking sequence.

Mortimer took the time to grab anything of his and of value he could find. Mostly weird pirate baubles in the form of sharp objects. They were stuffed in a bag slung over his shoulder as he waited for the airlock to cycle. Jaeger was beside him, the red machine gun she loved so much slung over her shoulder by a makeshift strap.

She was still cautious of Hyun, her daughter likely felt the same way, but Jaeger was now convinced that the Alliance they were meeting were legit. She would've stuffed him in the nearest broom closet and told him to stay quiet while she took care of business if it was any different.

But why was his stomach curling?

Call him superstitious but it never bode well when the stomach spoke. He learned that a long time ago during dinner at a chinese hole in the wall restaurant. He should've buggered out just by looking at the place, he paid two-fold for not trusting instincts, one upfront, the other in the bathroom which he frequented after that meal.

"Hey, Jaeger." He said ，brave enough to address the N7 by her last name, the woman didn't turn but he knew by experience she was listening anyway, so he continued, "Thanks for saving me. I know I wasn't in your to-do-list but for what it's worth, you have my gratitude." He meant it, he couldn't recall earnestly saying thank you in his whole life till that point.

But as usual Jaeger with her usual emotion-deaf attitude played it off with a curt nod. But he guessed by that point that's all he could ever hope for.

The locks on the door clicked, the inner mechanisms cycling as air depressurized inside the tube, green lights illuminated on the entrance head. The airlock opened, and on the other side of the tube, he could see Hyun flanked both sides by fully armored alliance blues. She smiled, her armored legs almost breaking in a wild dash, but kept in check by Jaeger's measured steps.

"Operative Jaeger." Hyun saluted when they came close, albeit lamely,as if to taunt Jaeger. That wasn't like her. Mortimer frowned, just what the hell is up with these two, some sort of Alliance history?

"Captain." Jaeger said, that reply was even shorter than their usual chatter. The air seem tense, and he already knew it wasn't Jaeger's fault, the woman lacked body language to begin with.

"I'll be taking Mr.Yung off your hands, Operative." Hyun remarked, he tried smiling at her, but the close distance made him aware of her other quirks when Little Hyun was nervous: the swipe of her tongue across her lips, the eye darting to and from the source of her anxiousness--in this case it was… Jaeger?

"Affirmative." The N7 replied, he noticed Hyun motioning her finger faintly and the two marines seem to grow more tense, their finger hovering from the trigger guard. "Why the security."

It wasn't a question but a statement.

He didn't imagine to understand what that meant, only that things were not quite like it seemed. Then was Jaeger actually telling the truth? That might not be his Hyun? Wait why was he even considering that? If anyone was receiving the butt-end of anything it was Jaeger. The woman was a super soldier, a spy and an awful liar all rolled into one.

"Because N7 don't operate alone and neither do they need authentication codes!" Hyun suddenly yell, pulling him away and making a dash. Strings of gunfire followed from behind, he looked back, the marines were firing away, taking turns as one would cover the other while they retreated.

"Hyun! What's happening?!" He yelled, the bag he hefted over his shoulder bounced across his back, rebounding harshly. He was struggling to keep up, but Hyun was as fast as she was stubborn. They crossed over into the Iwo Jima, spilling on the floor like a sack of potatoes. The airlock shut behind them, one of the marines peered through the port, gasping audibly.

"Holy shit, ma'am, she's still alive." The marine quipped. "She ain't got no shields either… Fuck hows she doing this." The last comment was murmured more to the marines own benefit.

"Dad." Hyun huffed, she was back on her feet, pulling him up with a grunt, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you; she's not N7. I did an inquiry as soon as we finished talking, there's no Amira Jaeger in the systems, I couldn't risk telling you that sooner, I didn't know what she would've done." He was flabbergasted, stunned into silence. That gave Hyun time to turn to the marines.

"I take cuffing her didn't work?" She asked, the marine still peering through the port shook his head.

The other marine brought his arm over his head, probably swipe the sweat from his brow but remembering he had a helmet on answered, "Tried, she wouldn't budge. Tried knocking her out too. She's a goddamn wall." Mortimer gulped, and that was the woman he had tried to intimidate back on the Kvervan's bridge? She was actually a literal wall.

"Hyun! Jaeger has been nothing but helpful to me! She saved me!" He was incredulous when he finally found his voice."Talk to her!" He pointed out towards the umbilical, the growing figure in a lab coat inching closer step by measured step.

"We have reason to believe she's Cerberus, Dad." Hyun told him with a levelled stare, "She killed an entire ship and I can't take risks, she burned that bridge when she didnt come in quietly." She reasoned, her brows doing that lost puppy act. Damn you.

"Goddamnit Hyun," He cursed, exasperated and torn. Jaeger was an emotion-deaf supersoldier but at least she'd save him without hinting of payment, hell she'd been receptive to his suggestions so far, he actually believed she'd pass him off without a complaint and be off on her way right after. The woman was adamant on her time sensitive mission after all.

Hyun looked sorry as she brought her omni up, "Fastlane, disengage umbilical." She ordered, the airlock promptly glowing red and the locks engaging as the umbilical tube parted from the Kvervan.

"No!" Mortimer rushed to the airlock, squeezing beside the marine as he inched for a peek, Jaeger had been so close, her arm outstretched towards them as she slowly floated backwards, pushed away as he felt the Iwo Jima lurch. Those crystalline eyes unblinking, stubbornly holding onto the determined life force contained within Jaeger.

"Damned fool." He murmured through gritted teeth, the slap of his fist against the airlock fell unsatisfyingly silent. "Why didn't you run?" His head hung low as he sighed into his chest.

"She's iced alright." The marine beside him commented, "I'll eat my shoe if she aint dead yet." Mortimer just shook his head in disbelief.

"Come on, Dad. We'll get you settled in for the trip back." Hyun pulled him away from the port, he finally gave in after her third try, embracing her in a hug as they trudged away from the view of Jaeger's floating corpse.

* * *

Hyun-Ae Yung was elated for the first time in a week after her dad's abduction. Mainly due to the fact of actually saving her dad personally, while she did kind of wished there'd be an epic space battle with the actual raiders, she was just relieved her dad hadn't suffered any physical trauma.

As for mental trauma. That was another matter entirely.

It wasn't easy seeing corpses, or death in general. She had the luxury of sitting in a chair, ordering death from a distance, she didn't envy the marines doing the leg work, but she appreciated them like any good Alliance soldier. Her dad wasn't navy though and neither was he a grunt, he was a retired lecturer that had been exposed to what surmounted to as a localised slaughter, she'd seen the holovid and pics she had asked him to send her way.

Batarian corpses littered corridors, limp like one of those realistic dolls they sold in kid stores. Only those were real people--decidedly horrible people--but people nonetheless. Judging from a rebuilt model of the Kvervan; from where the body started to where it ended. Every step that woman took was calculated with efficiency in mind. Only Cerberus operated with such extreme MO. She almost spit, then remembered she'd rather not stain her work desk.

Her report was going rather swimmingly, and she made an effort to remind her superiors back on Arcturus and SSV Blue Ridge of Amira Jaeger's frightening combat capability. In short, she wasn't available for capture, alive at least. It took the combined might of five of her strongest people on the Iwo Jima to haul her cold ass to where she was now; locked in medlab stasis chamber. She argued mentally if she should task guards to the medlab after debriefing Marines Wagner and Brooke, by their accounts Jaeger took three solid m8 shots to the head and shrugged it off.

A possible exaggeration considering the whole ship had been hyped up after being tasked to subdue the Cerberus supersoldier.

She could see herself accusing them of lying, but she'd never believe those two missing shots, especially in a cramped scenario as a docking tube. Jaeger's corpse was clean, not even a scratch. She tapped on her pad, adding super-healing rate to the list of Jaeger's combat capabilities. By God, the list was growing as she transferred notes from debriefing her own dad. Voice mimicry was quite common nowadays but it was quite frightening how fast her tech allowed her to adapt another's voice.

But face sculptor device? Really? Her lip curled, a thin piece of wood danced between her lithe fingers. She liked to think it helped her concentrate, reports were something she didn't particularly excel in after all.

Sighing, she finally added facial-mimicry to the long list, though when they did a prelim test on the woman's omni, it held nothing of value, just another cover by the name of Bralo, a batarian. It did give credence to the face stealing thing though, but they left the omni tool alone after that. Arcturus never liked it when high profile packages were tampered before they get their grubby hands all over her.

Mhmm. Hyun wouldn't mind getting her hands all over her too. Jaeger was undoubtedly attractive. Shame She was cerberus. And dead. That was the main point.

Wait, what? Her brow scrunched in frustration, she was getting off topic again. The wooden piece twirling faster between her fingers before flying off, hitting the far side wall with a clink. Sighing, she got up from her seat to retrieve the thing, then half way returning to her desk, she decided to visit the mess hall, a nice cup of coffee sounded nice right about now.

* * *

The mess hall was the one place on the entire ship that never went to sleep. Always buzzing with activity and chatter, for food or after work out banter. Hyun came for the former, idly waiting for a crewman to finish filling her cup before Hyun could get some of that black-energy juice or commonly called coffee.

When she finally got her fill, she decided to stick around, enjoying the lightened mood now that they were on their way back to New Canton. Open smiles and boisterous laughter shared all around, she took a sip, it was bitter, didn't match the mood, but shed thank herself later when she was neck deep in reports three hours in the blind morning.

Surprisingly the chatter-starter this time was dad, out of the second hand batarian clothes he wore from before and in alliance overalls. His voice was loud enough for the whole mess hall to hear his tales, she took a seat far from the growing circle of eager listeners, but close enough to hear his tales as a slaver abductee.Bless his heart, he was a strong man, he'd seen bigger men refuse to talk about field trauma and her dad is recounting previous hours like it was an adventure of his life.

The old man was built like bricks mentally, teaching was his passion; learning even more. Pain was acceptable to him. She just wished it wasn't necessary in his pursuit for more knowledge.

He slowed down when it came to introducing Jaeger into the picture. He was conflicted, whethed to paint her as a hero or a villain. At last, he just told it from his point of view, down to the last recollection of the supersoldier Jaeger's solid glare. A quiet murmur passed around the circle.

"Her body is in the medlab right?" A crewman asked, then another affirmed, casting a mixed look of confusion and realization before abruptly trying to spook the other. Earning a punch on the arm.

"Hey Cap, heard this Jaeger is a bombshell, can we go take a look?" A crewman asked, Hyun coughed info her coffee. The crewman was notorious for his pranks and jokes, she kept him around for that, but sometimes it grated her nerves enough to threaten trip via the airlock.

She cleared her throat, "Sure, if you want Arcturus to lobotomise you." She winked, voice sweet with malice.

"No fun." He frowned.

"Alright ladies, you know what isn't fun?" She stood, clapping her hands firmly twice, the crew awwed in disappointment, Hyun held back a grin. "Sleep time!" She announced elatedly. "Mr.Yung needs sleep and so do you kiddies! I don't remember you being on the night shift, Mister! And neither are you! And you!" She pointed to each of the crew members present,having memorised each individual schedule by this point.

One by one they filtered away, a satisfied smirk on her face. They get to annoy her, it's only fair they'd get the same treatment. Su casa mi casa as they say. Or perhaps not, spoken languages were never her strong point, also reports. Those two didn't mix well with Hyun.

"Good lads and lasses." Her father remarked, forking a piece of bacon between his lips, Hyun carried her cup over to him, seating across.

"They're family." She said, Mortimer nodded.

"Family away from family." He added, and this time she nodded.

"Are you sure it was okay for you to talk so… openly about your experience like that?" She asked, she already knew the answer but it didn't hurt to try. Mortimer Yung could open up if he deemed it serious enough of an issue.

He shrugged, a lazy roll of his shoulders, the dark hair she's familiar with had grown past his brows, neatly combed back.The ancient angular glasses secured on the crook of his nose. The soft features now had scars, streaks across his right cheek, and a barely noticeable scrape on his jawline. It was like looking at an elder lion.

"I don't see the problem." He said casually, his eyes never strayed from hers, even when he forked another piece of bacon. He probably read somewhere that breaking eye contact meant lying. Cheeky dad.

"Most people don't go in and come out the same, dad." She touched his hand, brushing her finger tentatively over the back of his hand. To his credit he didn't pull back. It was a test of sorts, people weren't quite receptive to touch when the discussed subject was a sensitive one.

"You know by now I'm not most people, Hyunie." He said, pointing his fork accusingly at her. Shs sighed, smiling despite herself as she propped her chin up on her palm. "But youre right, I didn't come out the same. That woman, Jaeger, whoever she really was… I think she was harmless, at least to me," he paused thinking over his words, "and to you , hell even the whole ship and fleet."

Hyun snorted, "How could you possibly know that." It was a rhetorical question, a dark part of her didn't want to entertain the possibility that she just might had spaced an innocent but trained-killer.

He chewed thoughtfully, and then he finally shrugged. "She was… really careful when it came to me, I suppose." Hyun hummed, nodding along. Her thoughts were already on the stupid report waiting on her desk.

"You're not listening, Hyun." He reprimanded with an accusing look, "I don't blame you for what happened." He softened, brushing her palm with his rough fingers assuringly. She had to actively stop herself from flinching away.

A rustle nearby broke the moment, she hadn't noticed this crewman staying behind,seemingly unperturbed by ignoring her orders the first time she sent them away, she sighed, the guy probably was super hungry, she'd let that slide. But not without letting him know about it!

"Hey ensign." She hollered, the crewman stopped in his tracks as he was hauling away an empty meal tray in hand.

"Yes, Captain?" He replied coolly, not even a hint of guilt. Okay these guys are in for the daily three AM drill as soon as they got back into the swerve of things.

"When I say jump you…?" She drawled lazily, this was a common thing between her and her crew, back and forth banter, they got along with the nature of things easily, even newcomers.

"I…" He trailed, he stared down into her face. It took an uncomfortable few seconds until Hyun crumpled under the ensign's clueless pressure and just finally sighed and waved.

"When I say sleep go to sleep." She finished, casting a sideways glare when her dad chuckled into his drink.

"What an oddball." She remarked. She made a mental note to hit the service records again. She prided herself for remembering the crew roster, but even with that cookie-cutter alliance buzz cut, she was good with faces and she was sure she'd remember someone with a scar so memorable.

"Ghastly scar." Her dad said, voicing her thoughts. "Looked young too, can't imagine what did that to him." He commented offhandedly.

"How's your stomach dad?" Her father raised a brow, blindsided by the sudden query.

"Good?" He shrugged, he glanced at his tray questioningly. "Did you put something in my food? It better not be laxatives."

She snorted, an ungraceful sound coming from someone of her post but she didn't care. "No, remember when you'd always say 'I don't feel too good'? It's usually followed up by something equally bad happening after."

"Yeah, a trip to the restroom you mean." He quickly deflected the fork aimed towards his shoulder with his own.

"Sometimes I wonder what I inherited from you." She joked.

"Not my good looks that's for sure." He didn't block the flying spoon aimed at his head.

* * *

"Cap, SSV Blue Ridge requesting stat report." Her helmsman, Fastlane, informed from the cockpit.

"Green across the board. We're good for jump." She told her, the frigate Iwo Jima was on the Blue Ridge's one o'clock in the formation, naturally they'd jump first before the cruiser, acting as a scout force. Being frontal screen for a cruiser was a desirable position amongst ship captains, beats being the rear guard, they usually stayed behind to cover retreats. They weren't expected to make it back.

Hyun learned a long time ago to get used to jumping between relays, it was a job requirement.Nowadays she found herself looking forward to it, the flashing lights as the rings whirl to full crescendo pulling them away and blasting them into far beyond. It was alleviating in a sense, like being part of a concert and the ship was the chorus. Her father would disagree vehemently. In fact he did, last night before she bid him goodnight.

A disgusted face and a string of curses flowing from him as he stalked to his bunk. The thought made the captain grin.

"Forward, noble stallion!" She announced, eliciting multiple grunts from the crewmen around the CIC.

For all their grousing, they loved it anyway, or at least tolerated her. Her feet tapped in tandem with the rising hum of the ship's power cores as she mentally tried to guess when the ship would jump by ear. It was a growing habit of hers, in a pursuit of knowing the ship like the back of her hand.

The ship snagged to a crawl when she mentally counted to one.

She frowned, "Fastlane, sitrep." Hyun quickly fell into protocol. Her back bowed as he leaned against the railing. A chorus of chatter and commands were being sent forth from her officers in CICs as they tried to ascertain the cause for their untimely pause. "Ma'am, SSV Blue Ridge and her escorts have left the AO." Her comms officer informed. 'Shit,' She cursed mentally, dead in the water with no backup was the last position she wanted to be in.

"Does Chief Engineer Orwell have an idea why we aren't jumping?" She asked.

Comm Officer Muller turned his chair to her, sweat beads drawing rivulets down the worried creases on the man's forehead. In situations like these everyone reported to him in one way or another, but she trusted the German enough to keep his head cool when the influx of information came. "Nein, Captain." He said, his accent thick. "Chief Orwell says there shouldn't be anything stopping us from leaving the relay. They're currently checking the systems for errors."

Hyun nodded, mentally crossing sabotage from the prepared scenarios in her mind. A tide of giddiness welled up inside of her, mixing with a growing sense of unease as every second passed.

A gush of cold air flawed in when the CIC doors swooshed open, her dad rushed in, escorted by Marines Wagner and Brooke. "Sorry, Cap." The former apologized. "Mr.Yung said it was urgent." She pursed her lips, but didn't comment, waving them a-okay, they left with a salute and a quick jog back to their posts.

Hyun managed a shaky smile as she wiped her brow, "Someone get the A/C working at least!" She bellowed quickly over her shoulder. It was getting heated quickly.

"Hyun, listen." Dad's voice was grave when she found firm hands on her shoulders, brown hazel eyes locking onto her own. "Power down your engines, and have everyone surrender." She went slack-jawed for a moment, speechless, the chatter behind her died as well, chairs creaking as they swiveled.

"Hyun!" He said firmly, shaking her shoulders.

"I heard you, Dad, please." She managed a nervous laugh, "Now's not the time for jokes, it's big ship flying time." He worked his jaw, in thought.

"You don't understand!" His voice growing frantic, and for the first time, she could see the panic in his eyes, blood-shot and wide, intensified by the red lights. He realized his outburst, taking a step back, sighing, trembling hands pulled down over his face."I'm sorry." He apologized.

Hyun stepped forward, enveloping him in a hug and patting his back assuringly, "It's fine, what is this about? You can't just tell me to surrender y'know. I don't even know who Im surrendering to." She joked. Her dad didn't find it too funny as he visibly shivered.

"She's alive." He said, glancing up. The only deceased female in the last twenty four hours she could recollect was Jaeger.

"We both saw the body." She told him, but he didn't appear appeased. Only seating himself in the captain's chair like he belonged there as he tapped his foot anxiously.

She sighed, bringing her omni up when he didn't reply, apparently her officers were getting spooked too, judging from the hushed tones exchanged and sudden tense atmosphere. It was different from the busy and hectic chase of information from earlier. She preferred the latter, honestly. Bleak and dreary never interested her anyway.

"Bravo squad, confirm package is secured." She said.

The line on the other end crackled with interference, "Aye, captain. Bravo squad moving." The squad leader affirmed. There, that should relax nerves around the ship, since most of the worry was coming from the dead Cerb op anyway.

"It went down like this." Her dad suddenly said, she turned to him. Feet tapping, and back inclined forward, his eyes blinked at irregular intervals, trying to remember. Or probably forget something.

"First to go was the power." He recalled, hands over his lips as he sucked in air through his fingers.

Hyun decided to play that one to coincidence. The ship wasn't brand new to be honest, she had a few dings here and there, and faulty systems were rare but there were there. She should've known her dad would be traumatised, really what was she thinking. She had almost ordered Wagner to escort him to the medbay when Bravo Squad rang on the omni.

"Ma'am." The squad leader's voice terse, "The body is gone." And just like that her world flipped on it's head. Giddiness disappeared into the stars leaving her gut sinking. The chatter behind her alighted anew with a sense of dread.

'Get a hold of yourself, Yung!' She reprimanded herself mentally.

"Sailors!" She bellowed, ceasing the whispers, "Hands on deck! Sound general quarters!" A series of aye-ayes sounded off at her command. Her foot down now, her men needed orders or else they'd break down on their own pressure.

"Muller, send an S.O.S. to task force Marseille, we need them here now." Muller nodded, cupping his earpiece as he relayed her commands. Hyun's arms crossed below her chest as she observed the flurry of activity.

"Dad," She said, turning her heels. "What's next?" He regarded her with widened eyes, surprised she was listening to him for once probably. Pride wasn't her concern right now. Or ever. Not when the lives of her crew came into question.

"What's next?" He repeated, then cleared his throat, hands shaking. "Bodies start piling up." He remarked silently, the activity ceased for a moment before resuming with increased intensity.

"Shit." She cursed, recognizing the utter finality in her father's voice. The tone he reserved for inevitable outcomes. "Shit. Shit." She repeated, scenarios piling through her mind. All of them crossed just as quickly when she got to the bottom line; the woman survived being spaced for almost an hour and not to mention shot at point blank range!

There was one other alternative, she swallowed, no navy captain would consider blowing up their ship as a resort. But it was an unspoken solution. Written down in angry bold red letters in the thick navy manual, 'INITIATE SELF DESTRUCT PROCEDURES IF:' followed by a list of understandable but extreme scenarios that Hyun scoffed at, vowing herself never getting into.

That vow might already be broken by this point.

* * *

Half an hour passed, and all her security teams were reporting an all clear with no disturbances. They continued checking in at regular intervals just to be safe. Her dad kept reminding her that this was unusual, usually the gunfire would've started as soon as the power cut off. She had to bite back a retort for that one. Circumstances are different and the Cerb op knows it. Her marines would drop Jaeger like a fly.

Or so Hyun wished anyway.

"Ma'am, SSV Malaya dropped out of FTL to assist. Task force Marseille going on ahead to secure the next relay." She nodded grimly. That was the best she was going to get.

"Captain," Comm. Officer Muller chirped again from his station, this man had his work cut out for him. If all was said and done, she was going to request a pay raise on his behalf. "SSV Malaya's hailing us, putting it on screen now."

She found herself on the end of a pointed look, bestowed by a grizzly Russian. Uniform ironed to perfection, rivaling Hyun's if this was any other occasion. She was aware of the creases now, flattening them with a hurried press of her hand. "Captain Yung, a brief on the situation, if you would please." He said.

She quickly gave him the quick lowdown on the current state of affairs. Captain Viktor thumbed his chin, a faraway look in his eyes. "Quite a situation here." He commented, Hyun held back an exasperated sigh. That was an understatement; this was a literal shitstorm. She couldnt even identify her own personnel with the Cerberus op rampant.

"Evacuate your people." Viktor said, "We'll scuttle the ship." Her chest ached, the last resort spoken finally. He could feel the wave of pressure rolling through the CIC.

"I cant." She said, jaw stiff. "The Cerberus op is hiding amongst the crew, she'll get away regardless."

"Let me talk to her." Her dad interjected from the corner, walking into view of the cam feed. "She can be reasoned with."

Viktor cast a questioning look, she pursed her lips, reigning in an undignified shrug. "That was out of the question the first time. We tried bringing her in peacefully."

"Hyun, I love you but your guys basically tried to bend her arm." Her dad retorted firmly.

"Well she did clear an entire ship, Mr.Yung. I couldn't take that risk with mine." She pressed his last name for emphasis. She didn't need someone to tell her how to run her own ship. Not even her own dad.

"So Mr.Yung, you've been in extended contact with this Cerberus operative?" Viktor decided to cut in, her dad nodded, then looked at her with a hurt expression. She glanced away, curling her lip distastefully.

"I suggest we try, Captain Yung." Viktor proposed, "We have nothing to lose if diplomacy fails. If push comes to shove, then we tow the SSV Iwo Jima back to Alliance space and sift through the personnel individually." She nodded, feeling slightly relieved and foolish. It was basically the same idea as her dad, though she only followed through with it because Viktor was her peer.

The live feed blinked out of existence. The weight of her guilt tumbling down on her shoulders like bricks. "I'm sorry, Dad." She chewed on her lip.

"It's alright, Hyunie." He said softly, his hand gripping her shoulder, pressing it firmly. "Let's get everything under control first, okay?"

"I--Yeah," She stammered, schooling her features into the jubilant carefree captain her crew had come to know.

* * *

"Jaeger." Her dad said into the commlink, his voice tentatively reaching out to the agent. Hyun scrunched her nose, pinching it by the bridge. She couldn't believe they were even trying to reason with a cerberus lackey.

"If you can hear me, these people mean no harm." He assured, following the agreed terms they had discussed a little while earlier.

No response.

"Welp, that was a shitty plan." She announced, her dad coiled around, giving her a pointed look. "Sorry, I won't swear." That was hypocritical. The man wasn't shy of dropping F-bombs himself sometimes.

The steady whir of systems coming back online allayed some of her doubts. Though that could be attributed to the good work engineering was doing. she knew how doubtful that was; the actual source of their problem was a stubborn piece of malware plugging all the power from being relayed. She'd never heard Chief Engineer Orwell in such a complete disarray, yelling orders left and right.

"Good, good." Her dad murmured into the feed, "Now--"

He was cut off when the video feed blinked to life, words spilling into the screen, spelling it out for them, "Surrender." Followed by a list of demands, one such demand was letting Jaeger take a Kodiak as soon as power returned.

"That's not going to cut it." She said, "Arcturus wants this lady in the bag."

"Hyun." Her dad pleaded, his knowing eyes begging her to acquiesce. She broke eye contact, she knew very well what she'd inherited from him: It was the puppy eyes. The same ones hes using against her right now. A double edged sword in her arsenal.

Turning away, the officers in the CIC were all looking at her, apprehensive. Hopeful. Damn it. "Fine!" She blurted quickly, her pride stung. The Rear admiral was going to demote her to cleaning duty for this mishap. .

Normal operating lights flickered on, a chorus of awws and claps rolled. She didn't feel so bad then, ultimately, the life of her crew mattered. Bringing them all back alive was everything to a captain worth their salt, she told herself mentally. She waved clearance for the deck officer to clear a lift off for one of the Kodiaks. It didn't matter which by now, she wasn't going to be around to miss it. Might as well pilfer from the food stores too later.

"Good call, Hyun." Her dad applauded, she smiled softly back. Life mattered, her crew mattered.

"Captain," Viktor said, the holofeed coming to screen, a noticeable frown on his face. "We've been trying to reach you for quite sometime now. What's the situation there?"

"It's resolved." She replied. "And you did reach us, Captain." She added, slowly.

Viktor looked at her with an arched brow, his cap pushed up slightly by the motion, "That's a negative, Captain Yung. This is the first time we've spoken."

She felt the eyes of her officers on her, her dad had a knowing look about him, chuckling to himself. "I see." She said, "We'll regroup with taskforce Marseille."

Viktor nodded, "In formation, Captain. Keep distance 500 kliks, don't want any raiders getting any ideas." He proposed. Hyun just went along with it as the screen blink off. She had been bamboozled. That's what it was. Pure and simple. She sank into the captain's chair with a lazy plop.

* * *

Mortimer had bounded off towards the hangar with as much speed as his bum leg would offer, Hyun's crew was polite enough to make way for an old man, though probably more out of thanks for saving their hides from a faceshifting killer than respect for their elders.

Navy marines thundered past him, toting their weapons. Good God, they better not shoot at Jaeger or what little they salvaged from the situation went undone by a trigger happy marine.

The hangar area was suspiciously clear when he got there, he slowed down, moving with a guarded caution towards the line of Kodiaks. "Relax, Mortimer Yung." He jolted, turning towards the voice, the young crewman from last night emerged behind a stack of crates, a similar one balanced on his shoulder.

Of course. A freebie. Hyun is going to be delighted. "Hey! What are you doing with that crate?!" Speak and she shall hear.

Jaeger turned exactly towards the camera behind her--him--them? "Reparations." She said, Mortimer finally decided on Jaeger's pronouns. Easier, since she always fell back into the blonde model whenever things were lax.

"I take it, we're even?" Mortimer asked, shuffling along behind Jaeger. He set down the crate inside the open Kodiak, the weight pushing the craft's suspension visible centimeters. Jesus, this woman was a tank.

She glanced over her shoulder, turning to him as her own face molded, "Service is it's own reward."

"Then dont take my stuff!" Hyun interjected from the comms.

Mortimer held up a hand, she looked at it, then back at his face before clasping it gently, a firm shake of her cold hand. For Cerberus, she wasnt that bad, he had heard the tales of course. He didnt want anything to do with extremists, but sometimes they had people like Jaeger inside. A shame really. The good she could do with Alliance. Or just freelancing.

"So." He said, clearing his throat as he tried to admire the bunch of items the woman had effectively stowed in the Kodiak by herself. "Organizing an open war against a small country huh."

"Hardly." She said, "I was… trained for large scale warfare, espionage and command; a small country I could dismantle from within without any of these." She remarked matter-of-factly, he nodded, he had seen her handiwork first hand; twice.

"You have my gratitude, Mortimer Yung." She said, after staring at him for a moment, "If you had not pointed out the glaring error in my social interaction, I wouldn't have successfully fooled Hyun-Ae Yung."

He rubbed his neck, "You're welcome, I guess?" He felt like a traitor, and another half of him relieved she'd taken the jest as a learning point.

It was just that wasn't it? A learning experience for everyone onboard. No harm done. Jaeger acted just like he said she would, not a human hair plucked. He couldn't quite place a finger on why, but he trusted her fully when she said she would save humanity. That was a broad ass goal, but it was respectable. It put the unstoppable-killer to good work.

She nodded curtly, clambering on the Kodiak as it's thrusters flared to life. The open hangar bay doors closing over the mass effect fields before the small ship could slip past. The kodiak landed, Jaeger stalking out, staring at a faraway cam in the corner.

"Hands on deck!" Hyun practically yelled into the commlink, the wailing klaxons drowning her voice.

"What now?" Mortimer asked.

He didn't expect Jaeger to answer, "It seems there are hostile vessels in the vicinity." She informed.

* * *

A/N: As always thank you for reviews, favs and follows. Ill try answering as best as I can to some queries, I'm sorry I couldnt tag your names. Working on a phone is a bit of a hassle.

Data on CPU: My thoughts exactly, data shouldnt be on CPU but as in terminator 3 showed, the T850 still had control over it's CPU suggesting it stored the directives and data in there while the TX merely controlled it's auxiliary systems. Anyways I might be wrong. Ill edit that part if it seems too jarring.

TX emotion slamming the console: The TX showed limited emotional capacity when it pursued John connor and the gang, even so much as shuddered when it tracked it's main target. And finally even shrieking as the T850 was about to terminate it. It's fair to say the TX is capable of emotions, albeit on a limited scale. Dont worry, she wont fall in love anytime soon.


	6. Eyeball it

"Fastlane!" Hyun roared the pilot's name. A flash illuminated the cockpit, Fastlane visibly turning her body as she pulled on the stick. The ship groaned as a blast rocked the entire superstructure.

"Shields holding!" Her quartermaster reported, "The shot grazed us, Ma'am." _Ssi-bal_ , she cursed inwardly. Grazed? That felt like it tore through the hull.

Hyun gritted her teeth as sparks flew overhead, her eyes tracked the holo-map, an angry red triangular blip speared towards Iwo Jima's retreating green icon. Five thousand klicks away, SSV Malaya moved in two-thirds speed, the blue icon flashing red in intervals as two hostiles chased her. The crazy Russian was actually bogging down the hostile frigates. She shook her head in disbelief.

That left her to handle a damn cruiser on her own.

A cruiser that shot an honest to God death ray that almost sheared the Iwo Jima in half! Not much she could do against that. Hell, these bogies were playing with them at this point, the cruiser could blast a hole in the Iwo Jima judging by it's position.

"No response from task force Marseille, captain." Comms officer Muller said hurriedly. "Static from Blue Ridge and the other frigates." The man was practically pale when she'd turn to him. "They're gone, Hyun."

She inhaled. Her mind was piecing every available information she had at the moment. Task force Marseille, MIA or utterly destroyed. No reinforcement. It was safe to say the same fleet they were up against was to blame. Purgatory was a jump away, and they were chased from the relay. The hostile ships were faster too.

She was sweating bullets despite the room being cold. Her hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her hair had come loose, but she couldnt find a moment to care. "We need to link up with Malaya." She said under her breath. Staring at the holo-map didnt help, it only reminded her of the dire situation. They were too far apart to do anything, split down the middle by coordinated force.

"What's the situation, Ma'am." XO Ellison said, coming in the CIC as he pulled off his hardsuit helmet. "The cerberus agent is in the cargo bay, doesn't seem like she's about to do anything malicious." He reported quickly. She nodded. Hyun couldnt care less about that right now.

"And my dad?" She asked, brow furrowed. Her dad was honestly getting too close with that snake. She trusted him to keep an arm's length, but that woman was as sly as they came.

"I had Bravo squad escort him back to the crew quarters." He replied. That was good enough. She quickly briefed her XO, wasting no time. By the end, he was bent over the tactical feed, scrutinizing every piece in play. "This isnt good." He remarked.

"We can't turn or slow down." She said, tracing a line. "We're just barely over the cruiser's maximum weapon range."

"That's a short range." He said, glancing up with a quirked brow.

"Fortunately they don't have torpedoes." Yes, small victories. Too small to make a difference now, but eh, got to take them where she could.

"That laser is liable to rip us apart if it gets a direct hit though." She reminded. Ellison's jaw stiffened, a solemn look on his face. He knew as much as she did; one shot and it's all over.

"What's the play, captain?" He asked.

She straightened her back, gaze washing over the rows of her officers at their stations. "Abandon ship." She said.

"Ma'am, this isnt the time for-"

"Captain! Cargo bays opening!" Quartermaster Weller's voice cut Ellison off.

Hyun furrowed her brows, "Belay that." She said, "Who cleared the order?"

"It's the Cerberus', Ma'am." Hyun scowled, her jaw tightening. The damn bastard was saving her own skin!

"Let her go then," She said in a low tone. "See how she fares against the cruiser." A part of her felt wrong, just a tiny bitsy part. Easily won over by the overwhelming feeling of wanting revenge. Her death wouldn't be on her hands so Hyun wouldn't feel as bad. In fact, the operative might just be saving them. The cruiser would go chase after her. She's a bonafide hero. Hyun suppressed an undignified snort.

Her dad might tell her off though.

Well, one would have to excuse her for not being able to stop the unkillable supersoldier from doing whatever she wanted.

"She's headed straight for the bogey." said Ellison, Hyun glanced down at the tactical-feed. A blue blip split off from the Iwo Jima, setting on a direct course into the oncoming hostile cruiser. She might've been wrong about the operative. Maybe she was a hero, if the woman was happily jumping out the questionable safety of the frigate to kamikaze the bogey. Then, she had at least earned some of the captain's respect.

Hyun realized she needed to capitalize on the event regardless.

"Helmsman Fastlane," Hyun said, clasping her hands behind her. "Coordinate with Quartermaster Weller, if bogey one-one shows sign of chasing after the launched Kodiak, we beeline towards the Relay."

"Aye, Captain." Both officers affirmed.

There was a slim chance of getting out of this alive. Her lips pursed as her gaze went down towards the blue blip inching closer towards the cruiser. If the woman was going through with her plan then Hyun wished her all the best, but if she wasn't; If this was just some botched attempt at running away; then go to hell, Amira Jaeger.

Or maybe the ships were Cerberus from the start, coming to recollect their precious little agent.

That was more unlikely.

IFF returned nothing. No model, no make and certainly no transmission from the three ships. Ha, that'd be a laugh. Fighting a new race would be funny in it's own way; humans weren't exactly veterans in spacefaring. And here she was, probably starting a new war on behalf of humanity. Though in her defense, they started it.

Hyun knew they took the bait when the ship turned, swerving harshly; the Iwo Jima groaned under pressure. Now it was a straight sprint to the finish line. "What's the status on the Kodiak?" asked Hyun.

"Destroyed, captain." Comms Officer Muller replied. Hyun let a moment of silence pass. The Cerberus operative deserved that at least.

"And Malaya?" Hyun chewed her bottom lip, finger tapping anxiously on her uniform's sleeve.

"Heading towards the relay as we speak." There was a hint of optimism in his voice, but his expression restrained. Good sailor, he knew better than to count his eggs just yet.

"Bogeys one-two and one-three broke off from pursuing the Malaya. It seems the Kodiak did more damage to the cruiser than expected." Quartermaster Weller chimed in, smirking.

"We're not out of the woodwork yet people." Hyun cautioned. Grossly aware of how her heart thumped against her ribs. Come on, come on! She thought, biting her lip.

The CIC was deafeningly quiet, interspersed with hushed chatter. She felt like she had to say something noble. Like the captains from the holovids. 'It was a pleasure serving with you all.' That has horribly corny and cheesy. But ultimately decided against it.

They were getting out of this alive, by hook or by crook.

A sudden explosion rocked the ship sideways. Panels dropped from the ceiling, exposing fried circuitry, the officers quickly reached for the nearest extinguisher. "Sitrep, Weller." She asked, trying to sound as composed as she could be.

"Fast moving bogies are strafing us." He replied, incredulous. "I-Theyre stripping the shields bare." The helplessness in his voice made Hyun understand how annoying the targets are for Weller. Great just great. Why does she always get hit with a curveball.

"Retask all GARDIANs to bringing them down ASAP." Ordered Hyun.

Sirens wailed to life, signaling a hull breach. Shit. They stripped the shields that fast? "Anytime now, Weller." Her voice rose impatiently.

"They just dropped three of our GARDIAN systems, Ma'am." He reported dejectedly. "Those things are too fast."

"Looks like there's no choice Ellison." She told her XO. He just nodded grimly as he sealed his helmet over his head. "All hands, prepare to abandon ship." Hyun spoke into her omni.

A different siren blared, conveying a renewed sense of urgency beneath it's deep whirring tones. One by one her officers began filtering out the CIC, their faces stricken. Hyun gazed away. Given a chance, they would probably stay behind knowing she'd be the last one out of the fire. They were a great crew; it'd hurt her if she lost even one of them to the faceless aliens out there.

Hyun hurried to the cockpit, relieved when it's already vacant. Fastlane was as hard-headed as they came, amplified for her love of flying and just going fast. Hyun tossed away the long speech she'd prepared for Fastlane incase she was being stubborn.

Okay, piloting an Alamo class frigate on her own shouldn't be too hard. She breathed. Taking a moment to compose herself as she tried to feel comfortable.

A million blinking lights and panels stared at her.

Shit. This was why she didn't become a pilot. All these procedures were a nightmare. Flip one switch and you needed to account for some complicated mathematical equation and then flip another to offset that. So she settled on gripping the stick, procedures be damned and yanked it.

The Iwo Jima responded to the order, veering in an arc. Streaks of mass accelerated rounds whizzed at the oncoming cruiser as the Alamo class frigate's twin guns boomed relentlessly against the deafness of space. Like a blossoming flower, lifepods began jettisoning from the Iwo Jima as it turned. Pillars of GARDIAN lasers scratched the sky, determined to keep the hostile fighters at bay as the pods flee.

Back on the ship, Hyun got off the pilot's chair, dashing towards the nearest pod which was , coincidentally, very far. _Ssi-bal_ , she cursed inwardly. The heavy footfalls of her magboots clanged on the alloy floor panels. Sparks crackling, the faint smell of smoke hung in the air. She dashed into the corridors, the sleeve of her uniform brought up to her nose. It didn't help much; she coughed, eyes blurred by the tears welling in her eyes.

She pushed onwards regardless, determined to see everything through. She needed to survive, if not for her own sake, then for her dad. The thought of him on firm ground frantically looking for her made her ache more than the choking smoke did.

Hyun wheezed, dropping to a knee. The ship shuddered after another explosion. Crap. She couldn't stand anymore without getting faceful of smoke. She began crawling her way towards the stairs. She was on the third step when she felt herself being lifted up and carried bridal style, the arms under her strong and firm.

"Goddamn it, Ellison!" She barked, trying hard not to wheeze. "I told you to evacuate!"

"Negative." It wasn't Ellison's voice. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Blinking a few times as her vision cleared. The smoke was palpable, almost blanketing her savior's face. Feminine from the curve of her cheeks trailing to the pointed chin. The smoke cleared, just barely when she ambled up the stairs. Affording Hyun the sight of glowing unblinking eyes.

"I...You died." Was all she could mutter, her throat drying up.

The agent gazed down, her eyes darting from her face down to her neck. "Conserve your energy." she said, climbing quicker. Hyun was pulled tighter into the agent. Awkwardly, she looped her arm behind the Cerberus operative, the fabric of her lab coat odd and cold to the touch.

They arrived in front of her quarters, Hyun angled her neck to allow the scanner to read her eye but the operative leaned back, Hyun felt the operative's knee brushing her back and then; Slam. The door busted open, a crash emanated from inside as the door came flying off. "What the hell." Hyun murmured.

"The vessel's systems are malfunctioning." She remarked casually, "It wouldn't have mattered."

Hyun gazed around the room with what little vision she was afforded, frowning. Goodbye , work desk. Goodbye bed that might as well be a slab of metal. Good riddance reports. Who was she kidding? A pile of reports with her name on it was waiting for her at Arcturus if she managed to get out alive. Then she perked, remembering something.

"Check for anything under my work desk, please." Hyun almost pleaded, but managed to sound a bit dignified.

The operative didn't sigh nor did she argue as she instantly turned, walking over to her desk. One hand beneath her gone as the operative searched. She must've found it, judging by the questioning look she was giving the held item in her hand.

"Don't ask." Hyun told her.

The next few seconds were spent securing Hyun to the seat inside the lifepod. Which only fit one. Hyun was fully prepared to get left behind as soon as the operative found out. But she was pleasantly surprised when she was the one getting strapped to the lifepod chair.

This woman was an enigma. And certainly not the kind of Cerberus operative Hyun had first thought. And she didn't buy the whole 'save humanity' crap Cerberus loved so much. They would gladly kill a few humans for their own benefit.

"Breathe into this." The operative--Jaeger held up a breathing mask to her face, Hyun allowed her to loop the apparatus over her head. Breathing in quick succession afterwards. Never has a breath of recycled oxygen felt so good.

"What about you?" The question felt bitter in Hyun's mouth, but she felt indebted to the operative and it didn't feel like this trend was going to go away soon.

"I will survive," said the operative. The hatch closing behind her before Hyun could ask any more. The interior of the lifepod was small, but it could've fitted both of them fine. Why did she have to meet every hard-head in the galaxy?

The lifepod rumbled as it's main thrusters engaged, easing into a controlled flight path as it cleared the debris field. Hyun scooted closer towards the viewing port. Her breath fogging up the mask she wore for a moment before clearing. The lifepod pulled farther away from the Iwo Jima. Plumes of explosions racked the Alamo-class frigate. A beauty even in her deathbed. GARDIAN beams still streaked the space around the ship dutifully even as the fighters strafed again and again.

Until a final pillar of light awoke from out of nowhere, splitting the frigate in two, before it's ruptured core consumed the wreckage in a miniature sun, lighting the sterile white interior of the lifepod for a split second. Her first assigned ship; Floundered by unknowns in the first open space battle ever since the Turian-Human contact.

Hyun sank in her seat, inclining her head. She hoped her little gambit paid off and everyone was alive. It was a tall order. Especially after something so violent. But it kept her going knowing someone out there counted on her to make it out.

Then she heard a knock on the hatch.

Tentatively she brought her face close. Hyun almost jumped out of her seat when Jaeger's surprisingly not-dead face filled the port, her empty crystalline eyes gazing inside, darting sharply. The operative opened her mouth to speak-Curiously, the port didn't fog up from her breath. Then she blinked and glanced over her shoulder.

"Captain Yung." Jaeger's voice filled the cabin. It was coming from the console. How the hell was she doing that? Not only that, someone explain to her why the woman was outside her lifepod like she was taking an evening swim. Hyun sighed, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised now. She knew the woman could survive in those conditions. It was just so jarring to see it with her own eyes.

"Yes?' Hyun said into the feed.

"I require you to pilot this vessel to these coordinates." said the operative, then a string of numbers displayed on the screen. Hyun quickly inputted the coordinates without a second thought. Might as well trust the woman by now, she reasoned. The console refused, giving her an error number she couldn't care to look up.

"Autopilot is dead." She told the operative.

"Manual controls are available." Jaeger replied easily. She didn't notice the glare Hyun sent her way.

"Excuse me, the last ship I flew by stick just exploded right behind you." She retorted. Jaeger only gave her an appraising look.

"Do it or we will perish." She wanted to ask what Jaeger meant, but a streak of red laser flying past the port answered her unspoken question.

Not this again. She inhaled. Then steeled her nerves as she pushed the throttle lever to full speed. The pod's engines roared beneath her, she spared a glance towards Jaeger, still clinging onto the pod. An uncaring air about the operative as she paid full attention to their pursuers.

Navigating the small pod through open space was a relatively simple affair, she could use her foot to fly and they wouldn't hit a thing. It was entirely different when you're being gunned by dedicated air-superiority fighters that spewed lasers. She had to fly the glorified tub in unpredictable ways; a random barrel roll there, a hard turn here, and yep that's a laser. Shit. Flying through a debris field would be safer than this.

Her attention was fully invested on the screen in front of her, displaying a camera feed of the pod's frontal cone. Jaeger should count her lucky stars that Hyun was nothing but unpredictable, if it were anyone else, they'd be dead already. She began to realize it was growing increasingly difficult to concentrate with the weapon flashes passing by the port as a blinding red beam would pass, then a blue-ish hue would illuminate the interior in retaliation. It was damned distracting. Now she knew why CIC didn't have windows. That and it'd be a bad day if one of them cracked.

Wait. Blue?

Where the hell was that coming from? She spared a quick glance over the window, there it was again. But the shots weren't passing by them, no, they were aimed to the rear. She cursed, Jaeger had a gun on her the whole time. Something that spat blue muzzle flashes it seemed. Perhaps she shouldn't have skipped gun training then she might've had an idea what the operative was using. She prayed it was a handheld rocket launcher because Jaeger wasn't taking down a fighter with a handgun.

The thought of the maniac out there shooting at a deep-space fighter with a peashooter while hanging onto a lifepod like it was a car chase elicited a short chuckle from her. It wasn't a full-blown mad laughter yet, thank goodness. Her sanity was still intact. But the thought was funny to the deep and secluded part of her mind where she still thought she was dreaming it all.

"Targets terminated." Jaeger said a moment later. The absent flash of red lasers through the port confirming her statement.

Hyun stilled in thought as she processed what just transpired. Jaeger brought down two fighters by herself. Whilst clinging onto a pod; moving thousands of kilometres per hour. Without computer aid. A feat the Iwo Jima failed to do. Suddenly it didn't seem very humorous. They had tried to kill her not so long ago and for all the trouble the Iwo Jima's crew had caused the Cerberus operative, she repaid by saving them. That spoke volumes of her character. Though Hyun couldn't exactly place what her motivations were; One thing she knew though, this woman was determined.

If Hyun wasn't so preoccupied by her ruminations, she might've noticed the endoskeleton outside reforming it's sheath after the prolonged battle. The human features slowly coming together as it retracted it's plasma cannon.

* * *

Hyun never felt so tired in her whole life. Not even recalling something that felt remotely close to what she was experiencing right now mentally and physically. Physically, inside and out, she felt the need to add. Her lungs still burned, and she couldn't help but blink more times than necessary. Mentally, she was exhausted with the wall she had to put up, more than once she felt like crawling into a corner and let it be.

So with a tired mind and body, she had been navigating the pod near a local gas giant's asteroid field, where lo and behold, the damned Kvervan was parked waiting like it had been planned all along. It wouldn't surprise her if it was at this point, everything fell so remarkably well in place.

"THV Kvervan to lifepod number zero-zero-one, do you read?" It was Comms Officer Muller. She managed a faint smile.

"You know it's me darn it." She said, and there was a chuckle. Make it a few chuckles. They were all on the Kvervan? Oh Lord make it so.

"Reading you clear, Captain." Muller said, it was hard to tell through the audio feed but he sounded relieved. "Hangar bay doors are open, let the autopilot handle the landing, Cap."

Hyun cringed, "Yeah, well, you see. I'm flying stick right now."

A rustle, then the whine of a chair being shoved away, "Holy shit, are you for real, Yung?" Fastlane interjected, incredulous. She took Hyun's silence for affirmation, "Well what do you know. You could fly after all."

"Fly. Not land" Hyun said firmly.

"That is acceptable. You have done an admirable job thus far." Jaeger's voice interrupted. "I will assume control." Fastlane and her crew's hectic queries were silenced when the comm cut off abruptly.

That left Hyun time to gaze outside the port as the pod took on a life of it's own. Jaeger was still hanging outside, omni active on her arm. Hyun wondered how it felt being outside in space bare-skinned like that. Then wondered again, what kind of enhancements did Jaeger undergo to even survive the things she went through. Was she even still human? Cerberus enhancements were… Inhumane. For all their talk about keeping humanity at the top, they were not afraid of transcending real humanity.

Jaeger's skin was practically unmarred by radioactivity, solar flares and whatever mad things space did to an exposed human--make that any organic being, she corrected. The out of place lab coat worn over a white blouse flowing faintly. Hyun wasn't sure the operative was even human anymore now that she's actually observing Jaeger in her natural abominable habitat.

But what did it matter? Jaeger saved her. Saved her crew.

It took a few moments until the Kvervan slid into the port view. Now Hyun will gladly admit she didn't know the barrel end of a gun. But a ship; she'd gladly tell you when the thing was manufactured just by looking at it. Just dont ask her to fly. She was taking a rest from flying the things personally.

The Kvervan was a Hastatus-class destroyer, a beautiful Turian ship; but that goes without saying. The recognizable dual back-swept wings design was both aesthetically pleasing and practical at the same time. A trait the other races in the galaxy seem unable to balance. Granted, she loved the Alliance's tough and bulky outlook on ship designs. But if it came to a vote, Turians had this in the bag. Sorry, Alliance.

Having thought that, the ship was in flimsy shape. The flaps on the backswept wings that allowed for atmospheric navigation were visibly rusted even under the low-light conditions of space. And the guns! Dear Lord! They looked like they were locked in place by overflowing oil that hadn't been changed for decades. Damned batarians don't know what they have until they lose it.

Literally, in this case.

Their bodies were probably floating somewhere around Purgatory space if her dad's words were true. The woman spaced them all in a big pile of dead batarians. Hyun was too tired to dredge up any semblance of sympathy for them.

The pod slowed to a drift as it came into the hangar bay area. Harshly dropping like a pebble as soon as it cleared the mass effect field. The force of the impact would've tossed her if she hadn't buckled up. Hyun took a moment to breathe, images flashed in her mind. Wow, she couldn't believe she made it. It was surreal. She had been prepared to die in a few instances but the scythe never came.

A sharp hiss broke her reverie.

The hatch door came loose, popping open like a cork. Then Jaeger's head came into view, silent as she dropped in, unbuckling Hyun like a baby from it's seat. And before she could say anything she was draping over the woman's arms yet again. God damn it, she cursed inwardly. If she wasn't tired then this Cerberus agent had another thing coming.

The lights were blinding, she had to bring her arm over her eyes to shield them and then regretted it when the smell of smoke from her clothes struck her nostrils. Footsteps hurried towards them, and then she felt something cold on her neck.

"Is she alright?" It was the voice of her CMO, Samir. Pressing his gloved finger against her vital point.

"I'm fine, doc." Hyun mumbled, adamantly refusing to move her arm from her eyes when the doctor nudged. She was too embarrassed by the state she was in right now to care. Here she was being saved by the woman she wanted dead not so long ago.

"Hyunie!" Oh good. Dad. "I'm glad you're safe." Hyun risked a peek, her dad looked worried despite his tone.

She managed a faint smile, "I'm good, dad."

"Um, Madam-Miss? Err, agent?" She heard Samir stumble over his words, "Would you please bring the captain to the… Medbay." The reluctance at the end worried Hyun. If the exterior of the ship looked bad, then what of the interior? Surely not that bad right?

It was awful.

And they weren't even near the medlab. They were walking through bloodied corridors, floor and wall panels scorched by explosions and peppered with bullet marks. If that wasn't bad enough then the smell was worse. The coppery scent of blood hung in the air like death itself, mixed in with the after smell of explosions.

"Smells like another tuesday." Wagner commented behind Jaeger, accompanied by Brooke and the rest of the crew that wasn't tied up with duties. Apparently the two marines felt obligated to make sure the Cerberus operative ' _wasn't gonna try anything'_. Jaeger didn't seem perturbed by the notion.

"We don't get into enough action for you to be saying that." Brooke snorted, there was a playful yet careful air around them. Every so often, Jaeger's sharp movements would make them snap their weapons up, revealing their true suspicions.

"Don't do that." Jaeger cautioned. There was no malice, no emotion, merely a warning. "Or you will hit your captain." Oh, okay. She was worried for Hyun. That sounded too personal. No, the woman just wanted to save as many people as she could, and that included her as well.

The rest of the trip to the medbay was a silent one. Brooke and Wagner had dropped the chatter too. Relegating themselves to guard duty outside the medbay as Jaeger and the others entered. She was placed on a bed that's only slightly worse than her own on the Iow Jima. And the smell. Why did everything smell in here? Why did the Batarians have to be so disgusting? It didn't seem like anything in the medbay was washed in years.

And judging by how CMO Samir was frowning at the boxed medication he was holding at eye-level, the drugs were not meeting alliance standards too. Samir turned, pulling out the medication from it's box. He drew a long sigh as he stalked back to the edge of her bed,"Well, this will do, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Hyun squeaked.

"I won't lie, everything they have in here is mainly for putting people to sleep rather than real medication." He said, "And it doesn't seem you need anything but rest, but drink this too." She grabbed the cup offered to her and drank it in one go. It left a bitter taste the back of her throat.

The doctor nodded in satisfaction, and then walked away. "If you need anything ring the-" He paused, remembering where they were. "Just knock on the metal tray beside you or make a noise, Captain. You do excel at that." He said with a smirk. She made a face.

"We are all glad you are safe, Captain." Samir said finally as he disappeared from view, but the clink of instruments told her he was still in the medbay. She turned on her side, her dad patiently waiting for his turn to take a poke. This should be a good.

"Don't give me that look, Hyun." Mortimer said, hunched forward as his elbows were propped on his knees.

Hyun dropped the sour-face. "Were you praying or somethin'?" She teased.

"I don't need to, our mutual friend already delivered you safely here." He said. She groaned. She didn't need to be reminded of that. Jaeger was nowhere in sight. After dropping her off the operative had disappeared, probably to yell at some of her crew.

"Yes, I'll thank her later." She mumbled, barely missing the stare her dad was giving her. "And apologize of course." She added.

"Good." He remarked pointedly. "As far as I can tell, we're safe here in the meantime. Get some rest. Someone will come by to wake you up when it's time to move." He assured. Hyun was too happy to oblige, her eyes drooping heavily. She didn't usually fall asleep quickly, not even under pressure. What the heck did the doc give her. With half a curse uttered, Hyun drifted to sleep.

* * *

When Hyun came to, it was by her own accord. Her eyes bleary as she blinked away. She sat up. Her dad was asleep on the chair. Figures. She got off, and draped her blanket over him.

"You're awake." Samir said from inside an office, he looked up at her. "Hmm, would've thought it kept you down longer."

Hyun furrowed her brows, "Can't keep me down, doc." She remarked firmly. Not in a million years! Hyun-Ae Yung won't stop, can't stop.

"Oh well." Samir declared dramatically, "Ellison is on the bridge deck, he might want to speak with you."

She nodded her thanks to the doc as she passed by the other beds, occupied by familiar faces. Most were unconscious, no doubt given the same treatment by the doc. Some were groaning in pain, Hyun's jaw tightened. She'll make the alien bastards pay. But first she needed to get her bearings right.

The elevators didn't work. She should've guessed after the fifth time she tried calling for it. She opted for the destroyed stairs, her leg almost caught in a hole after a misstep. "Ho, there, Captain." Brooke said just as soon as Hyun caught sight of marine duo.

"Do you ever go anywhere without a helmet, Brooke?" Hyun asked, returning the salute Brooke and Wagner gave her. Even his inseparable comrade, Wagner, had his helmet off.

Brooke tapped his helmet twice, "Saved me more times than I can count." He replied.

"That's not much if you can't count past three." Wagner interjected. Brooke laughed anyway, his voice robotic through his helmet's filters. "Go on in, Captain." Wagner motioned towards the blast door, then held his hand up to stop her. "Mind the blood puddles. They still ain't dry." Hyun grimaced.

The bridge doors open, and it felt like stepping onto the Iwo Jima's CIC the first time. Her crew had taken their respective places. XO Ellison had his back to her, hands clasped firmly behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, nodding, then returned his gaze towards the bridge, "Captain on deck!" Then a chorus of replies in return.

She played it off casually, falling beside Ellison. "Welcome back, Captain." Ellison said.

"Good to be back." She replied just a little too quickly. Hyun's furrowed her brows, "Where are we standing, Ellison." She asked solemnly.

"Well, in shit right now." He replied. "The ship is in shambles, some of our injured crew are in the medbay," Some? That was a miracle. "And most of the injured are in the crew bunks, we can't fit them all." Oh, her face fell. "We've no food whatsoever in this boat, the guns are jammed in place, firing them would mean moving the whole ship. And we have people MIA." He finished.

"Any good news?"

"The good news is the hostile fleet isn't tracking us, they're crowding around Iwo Jima's wreckage." He said, "Vultures." He spat with barely concealed venom.

"The Malaya?"

"Eezo traces suggests they managed to flee the AO." She sighed in relief, that was something. Now all that's left is to wait it out, but that wasn't a good plan either. They'd starve by the end of the cycle.

Her eyes scanned the bridge for a sight of a certain blonde. "Where's the cerberus spy?" Hyun asked. She had half expected her to barge into the bridge any time now, but that didnt seem to be the case. Ellison shrugged in reply. "Ring her omni or something, I want to know what the next step of her plan is." Ellison turned to her curiously, a brow curved.

"We're waiting on her, Captain?" Ellison asked. Hyun knew it sounded like she was giving away control freely to the Cerberus operative, but the woman was the only one with a shred of a plan.

"I don't like it either, but what plan do we have right now?" She deflected, "We're on her ship and we can't really force her to do anything either." Ellison nodded grimly, understanding the implications instantly.

"The ship will not move until I allow it." Jaeger's voice resounded through the bridge. Hyun exchanged glances with Ellison.

"Well right now we need to move because no one thought of stocking this entire goddamn ship!" Hyun told her.

A reply came from behind them, "Forward a complaint to the Batarian Hegemony." Jaeger said, strutting towards them. Her dad's voice reminded Hyun to apologize, but she pushed that thought away for now.

"Captain, movement from hostile fleet." reported Muller, Hyun turned. He had a frown on his face as he swiped a hand over his pants, drawing a streak of blood. "T-Theyre-Collecting the lifepods!"

"Get yourself checked, Muller." She said quickly, casting a sideways glance at Jaeger. "Well?"

"Well?" The operative said blankly. She should've caught on to what Hyun was suggesting. It was her main mission after all. But suddenly this woman was playing ignorant.

"Save them? They're my crew. They're human." Hyun gestured at the tactical-feed, a second rate model compared to what they had on the Iwo Jima. Jaeger's face was indiscernible when Hyun tried to read her.

"Negative." The answer stilled Hyun. Turning her body to face the operative, arms crossed over her chest.

"What do you mean negative? You saved some of my crew!" Hyun was faintly aware how she sounded like a spoiled brat but she didn't care. If she had to beg for Jaeger to save them she would.

"We are in no capacity to do so." replied Jaeger evenly.

"We have a ship… and some weapons." Ellison butted in, Hyun nodded gratefully. The other officers were looking at their little argument with hopeful expressions.

"Weapons that we will have to restrain from using lest we endanger your crew on board their vessel." Jaeger said, then continued without giving them a chance. "They will not have that constraint. The cycle will repeat if we choose to engage; This vessel will be destroyed and it's occupants captured." Jaeger stared Hyun down, the blue eyes searching into Hyun's.

Hyun let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Jaeger's eyes breaking off from hers. The operative's arguments were logical to any captain. But it was harsh and calculated, she made it sound so mundane. And that was perhaps the trait that tied her to Cerberus finally. Everything was numbers and probability.

And it wouldn't surprise Hyun if Jaeger held the same belief that the end justifies the means in her own way.

"Why didn't you save them too earlier?" She muttered under her breath.

"Resources are limited." Jaeger replied. Bugger her resources. Hyun pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyed and mad at herself for not being able to do anything. "It would be prudent for you to return to Alliance space and muster a force in retaliation." Jaeger suggested, probably out of sympathy. Screw her sympathy too. Hyun didn't need that. She needed to get her crew back.

Ellison pressed her shoulder reassuringly, eliciting a sigh from Hyun. "Alright." She said, staring at the red dots on the tactical-feed.

 _I'll come back to save you. I promise._

Until then, she still had injured sailors on board that needed care, not to mention food. Jaeger was right, Hyun gritted her teeth. That didn't make the decision any easier, but the woman's intentions were there. "Are we running silent?" Hyun asked. Weller replied with a nod then a curl of his lip.

"The ship is hiding quite well for it's size and shape it's in." Weller commented offhandedly. That's turian design for you. Or perhaps it was the batarian's custom modifications. Either way, she was thankful.

* * *

A/N : I forgot to address the comment about mass effect weapons vs terminatrix's armor.

I admit it does sound like I buffed up her armor when she's facing something that spits grains of metal sand at some fraction of lightspeed.

The way I look at her, however, is she's an anti-terminator terminator. Built to go against other terminators that were reprogrammed. By that point, the resistance also has plasma weaponry. Adding to that, I also think the mimmetic polyalloy would lessen the impact, definitely scratch and plunge into the liquid metal, but not enough to penetrate the dense hyper-alloy beneath. But under sustained fire, maybe it'll kill a TX. IDK.

As always, thanks for the reviews, favs and follows!


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